UNIT.  OF  CALIF.  UBRAHY.  T.OS 


1  Jim — look  up  I 


In  Red  and  Gold 


Bv  SAMUEL  MERWIN 


AUTHOR  OF 
"The  Passionate  Pilgrim,"  "Hills  of  Han."- 


FRONTISPIECE  BY 
CYRUS  LEROY  BALDRIDGE 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY 

Publishers  New  York 

Published   by    arrangement    with    The    Bobbs-Merrill    Company 


COPYRIGHT  1920 
THE  RIDGWAY  COMPANY 

COPYRIGHT  1921 
SAMUEL  MERWIN 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


To 

CHARLES  B.  TOWNS 
New  York  and  Peking 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTEB  PAGE 

I  FELLOW  VOYAGERS 1 

II  BETWEEN   THE  WORLDS 22 

III  Miss  Hui  FEI 43 

IV  INTRIGUE 63 

V  RESURGENCE 96 

VI  CONFLAGRATION 117 

VII  THE  INSCRUTABLE  WEST 142 

VIII  ABOARD  THE  YELLOW  JUNK 166 

IX  IN  A  GARDEN 189 

X  YOUTH        204 

XI  THE  LANDSCAPE  SCROLL  OF  CHAO  MENG-FT;     .     .  233 

XII  AT  THE  HOUR  OF  THE  TIGEB 275 

XIII  His  EXCELLENCY  SPEAKS 300 

XIV  THE  WORLD  OF  FACT 315 

XV  IN  A  COURTYARD  342 


IN  RED  AND  GOLD 


IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

CHAPTER  I 

FELLOW  VOYAGERS 

a  night  in  October,  1911,  the  river  steamer 
Yen  Hsin  lay  alongside  the  godown,  or  ware- 
house, of  the  Chinese  Navigation  Company  at  Shang- 
hai. Her  black  hull  bulked  large  in  the  darkness  that 
was  spotted  with  inadequate  electric  lights.  Her  white 
cabins,  above,  lighted  here  and  there,  loomed  high  and 
ghostly,  extending  as  far  as  the  eye  could  easily  see 
from  the  narrow  wharf  beneath.  Swarming  continu- 
ously across  the  gangplanks,  chanting  rhythmically  to 
keep  the  quick  shuffling  step,  crews  of  coolies  carried 
heavy  boxes  and  bales  swung  from  bamboo  poles. 

During  the  evening  the  white  passengers  were  com- 
ing aboard  by  ones  and  twos  and  finding  their  cabins, 
all  of  which  were  forward  on  the  promenade  deck, 
grouped  about  the  enclosed  area  that  was  to  be  at  once 
their  dining-room  and  "social  hall."  Here,  within  a 

I 


2  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

narrow  space,  bounded  by  strips  of  outer  deck  and  a 
partition  wall,  these  few  casual  passengers  were  to  be 
caught,  willy-nilly,  in  a  sort  of  passing  comradeship. 
For  the  greater  part  of  this  deck,  amidships  and  aft, 
was  screened  off  for  the  use  of  traveling  Chinese  offi- 
cials, and  the  two  lower  decks  would  be  crowded  with 
lower  class  natives  and  freight.  And,  not  unnaturally, 
in  the  minds  of  nearly  all  the  white  folk,  as  they  settled 
for  the  night,  arose  questions  as  to  the  others  aboard. 
For  strange  beings  of  many  nations  dig  a  footing  of 
sorts  on  the  China  Coast,  and  odd  contrasts  occur 
when  any  few  are  thrown  together  by  a  careless  fate. 
. .  .  .And  so,  thinking  variously  in  their  separate  cabins 
of  the  meeting  to  come,  at  breakfast  about  the  single 
long  table,  and  of  the  days  of  voyaging  into  the  heart 
of  oldest  China,  these  passengers,  one  by  one,  fell 
asleep;  while  through  open  shutters  floated  quaint 
odors  and  sounds  from  the  tangle  of  sampans  and 
slipper-boats  that  always  line  the  curving  bund  and 
occasional  shouts  and  songs  from  late  revelers  passing 
along  the  boulevard  beyond  the  rows  of  trees. 

It  was  well  after  midnight  when  the  Yen  Hsin  drew 
in  her  lines  and  swung  off  into  the  narrow  channel  of 
the  Whangpoo.  Drifting  sampans,  without  lights, 
scurried  out  of  her  path.  With  an  American  captain 
on  the  strip  of  promenade  deck,  forward,  that  served 
for  a  bridge,  a  yellow  pilot,  and  Scotch  engineers  below 
decks,  she  slipped  down  with  the  tide,  past  the  roofed- 
over  opium  hulks  that  were  anchored  out  there,  past 
the  dimly  outlined  stone  buildings  of  the  British  and 


FELLOW  VOYAGERS  3 

American  quarter,  on  into  the  broader  Wusung.  Here 
a  great  German  mail  liner  lay  at  anchor,  lighted  from 
stem  to  stern.  Farther  down  lay  three  American 
cruisers;  and  below  these  a  junk,  drifting  dimly  by 
with  ribbed  sails  flapping  and  without  the  sign  of  a 
light,  built  high  astern,  like  the  ghost  of  a  medieval 
trader. 

"There's  his  lights  now!"  Thus  the  captain  to  a 
huge  figure  of  a  man  who  stood,  stooping  a  little, 
beside  him,  peering  out  at  the  river.  And  the  captain, 
a  stocky  little  man  with  hands  in  the  pockets  of  a 
heavy  jacket,  added — "The  dirty  devil !" 

Indeed,  a  small  green  light  showed  now  on  the 
junk's  quarter;  and  then  she  was  gone  astern. 

After  a  silence,  the  captain  said:  "You  may  as 
well  turn  in." 

"Perhaps  I  will,"  replied  the  other.  "Though  I 
get  a  good  deal  more  sleep  than  I  need  on  the  river. 
And  very  little  exercise." 

"That's  the  devil  of  this  life,  of  course.  Look  a' 
me — I'm  fat!"  The  captain  spoke  in  a  rough,  faintly 
blustering  tone,  perhaps  in  a  nervous  response  to  the 
well-modulated  voice  of  his  mate.  "Must  make  even 
more  difference  to  you — the  way  you've  lived.  And 
at  that,  after  all,  you  ain't  a  slave  to  the  river." 

"No....  in  a  sense,  I'm  not."  The  mate  fell 
silent. 

There  were,  of  course,  vast  differences  in  the 
degrees  of  misfortune  among  the  flotsam  and  jetsam 
of  the  coast  Captain  Benjamin,  now,  had  a  native 


4  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

wife  and  five  or  six  half-caste  children  tucked  away 
somewhere  in  the  Chinese  city  of  Shanghai. 

"We've  got  quite  a  bunch  aboard  this  trip,"  offered 
the  captain. 

"Indeed?" 

"One  or  two  well-known  people.  There's  our 
American  millionaire,  Dawley  Kane.  Took  four  out- 
side cabins.  His  son's  with  him,  and  a  secretary,  and 
a  Japanese  that's  been  up  with  him  before.  Wonder  if 
it's  a  pleasure  trip — or  if  it  means  that  the  Kane  inter- 
ests are  getting-  hold  up  the  river.  It  might,  at  that. 
They  bought  the  Cantey  line,  you  know,  in  nineteen 
eight.  Then  there's  Tex  Connor,  and  his  old  side- 
kick the  Manila  Kid,  and  a  couple  of  women  school- 
teachers from  home,  and  six  or  eight  others — customs 
men  and  casuals.  And  Dixie  Carmichael — she's 
aboard.  Quite  a  bunch!  And  His  Nibs  gets  on  to- 
morrow at  Nanking." 

"Kang,  you  mean?" 

"The  same.  There's  a  story  that  he's  ordered  up 
to  Peking.  They  were  talking  about  it  yesterday  at 
the  office." 

"Do  you  think  he's  in  trouble?" 

"Can't  say.  But  if  you  ask  me,  it  don't  look  like 
such  a  good  time  to  be  easy  on  these  agitators,  now 
does  it?  And  they  tell  me  he's  been  letting  'em  off, 
right  and  left." 

The  mate  stood  musing,  holding  to  the  rail.  "It's 
a  problem,"  he  replied,  after  a  little,  rather  absently. 

"The  funny  thing  is — he  ain't  going  on  through. 


FELLOW  VOYAGERS  5 

Not  this  trip,  anyhow.  We're  ordered  to  put  him  off 
at  his  old  place,  this  side  of  Huang  Chau.  Have  to 
use  the  boats.  You  might  give  them  a  look-see." 

"They've  gossiped  about  Kang  before  this  at 
Shanghai." 

"Shanghai,"  cried  the  captain,  with  nervous  irrel- 
evancy, "is  full  of  information  about  China — and  it's 
all  wrong!"  He  added  then,  "Seen  young  Black 
lately?" 

The  mate  moved  his  head  in  the  negative. 

"Consul-general  sent  him  down  from  Hankow, 
after  old  Chang  stopped  that  native  paper  of  his.  I 
ran  into  him  yesterday,  over  to  the  bank.  He  says  the 
revolution's  going  to  break  before  summer." 

The  mate  made  no  reply  to  this.  Every  trip  the 
captain  talked  in  this  manner.  His  one  deep  fear  was 
that  the  outbreak  might  take  place  while  he  was  far 
up  the  river. 

It  had  been  supposed  by  all  experienced  observers 
of  the  Chinese  scene,  that  the  Manchu  Dynasty  would 
not  long  survive  the  famous  old  empress  dowager,  the 
vigorous  and  imperious  little  woman  who  was  known 
throughout  a  rational  and  tolerant  empire,  not  without 
a  degree  of  affection,  as  "the  Old  Buddha."  She  had 
at  the  time  of  the  present  narrative  been  dead  two  years 
and  more;  the  daily  life  of  the  infant  emperor  was  in 
the  control  of  a  new  empress  dowager,  that  Lung  Yu 
who  was  notoriously  overriding  the  regent  and  dictat- 
ing such  policies  of  government  as  she  chose  in  the 
intervals  between  protracted  periods  of  palace  revelry 


6  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

The  one  really  powerful  personage  in  Peking  that 
year  was  the  chief  eunuch,  Chang  Yuan-fu,  a  former 
actor,  notoriously  the  empress's  personal  favorite,  who 
catered  to  her  pleasures,  robbed  the  imperial  treasury 
of  vast  sums,  wreaked  ugly  vengeance  on  critical  cen- 
sors, and  publicly  insulted  dukes  of  the  royal  house. 

All  this  was  familiar.  The  Manchu  strain  had 
dwindled  out;  and  while  an  empress  pleased  her  jaded 
appetites  by  having  an  actor  cut  with  the  lash  in  her 
presence  for  an  indifferent  performance,  all  South 
China,  from  Canton  to  the  Yangtze,  seethed  with  the 
steadily  increasing  ferment  of  revolution.  Conspira- 
tors ranged  the  river  and  the  coast.  At  secret  meet- 
ings in  Singapore,  Tokio,  San  Francisco  and  New 
York,  new  and  bloody  history  was  planned.  The  old- 
est and  hugest  of  empires  was  like  a  vast  crater  that 
steamed  and  bubbled  faintly  here  and  there  as  hot  vital 
forces  accumulated  beneath. 

The  mate,  pondering  the  incalculable  problem, 
finally  spoke :  "I  suppose,  if  this  revolt  should  bring 
serious  trouble  to  Kang,  it  might  affect  you  and  me 
as  well." 

The  captain  flared  up,  the  blustering  note  rising 
higher  in  his  voice.  "But  somebody'll  have  to  run  the 
boats,  won't  they?" 

"If  they  run  at  all." 

His  impersonal  tone  seemed  to  irritate  further  the 
captain's  troubled  spirit.  "If  they  run  at  all,  eh? 
It's  all  right  for  you — you  can  go  it  alone — you  haven't 
got  children  on  your  mind,  young  ones!" 


FELLOW  VOYAGERS  7 

The  big  man  was  silent  again.  A  great  hand 
gripped  a  stanchion  tightly  as  he  gazed  out  at  the  dark 
expanse  of  water.  The  captain,  glancing  around  at 
him,  looking  a  second  time  at  that  hand,  turned  away, 
with  a  little  sound. 

"I  will  say  good  night/'  remarked  the  mate 
abruptly,  and  left  his  chief  to  his  uncertain  thoughts. 

The  steamer  moved  deliberately  out  into  the  wide 
estuary  of  the  Yangtze,  which  is  at  this  point  like  a 
sea.  Squatting  at  the  edge  of  the  deck,  outside  the 
rail,  the  pilot  spoke  musically  to  the  Chinese  quarter- 
master. Slowly,  a  little  at  a  time,  as  she  plowed  the 
ruffling  water,  the  steamer  swung  off  to  the  northwest 
to  begin  her  long  journey  up  the  mighty  river  to 
Hankow  where  the  passengers  would  change  for  the 
smaller  Ichang  steamer,  or  for  the  express  to  Peking 
over  the  still  novel  trunk  railway.  And  if,  as  hap- 
pened not  infrequently,  the  Yen  Hsin  should  break 
down  or  stick  in  the  mud,  the  Peking  passengers  would 
wait  a  week  about  the  round  stove  in  the  old  Astor 
House  at  Hankow  for  the  next  express. 

A  mighty  river,  indeed,  is  the  Yangtze.  During 
half  the  year  battle-ships  of  reasonably  deep  draught 
may  reach  Hankow.  In  the  heyday  of  the  sailing  trade 
clippers  out  of  New  York  and  blunt  lime- juicers  out 
of  Liverpool  were  any  day  sights  from  the  bund  there. 
Through  a  busy  and  not  seldom  bloody  century  the 
merchants  of  a  clamorous  outside  world  have  roved 
the  great  river  (where  yellow  merchants  of  the  Mid- 
dle Kingdom,  in  sampan,  barge  and  junk,  roved  fifty 


8  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

centuries  before  them)  with  rich  cargoes  of  tea  (in 
leaden  chests  that  bore  historic  ideographs  on  the 
enclosing  matting) — with  hides  and  horns  and  coal 
from  Hupeh  and  furs  and  musk  from  far-away 
Szechuen,  with  soya  beans  and  rice  and  bristles  and 
nutgalls  and  spices  and  sesamum,  with  varnish  and 
tung  oil  and  vegetable  tallow,  with  cotton,  ramie,  rape 
and  hemp,  with  copper,  quicksilver,  slate,  lead  and  anti- 
mony, with  porcelains  and  silk.  Along  this  river  that 
to-day  divides  an  empire  into  two  vast  and  populous 
domains  a  thousand  thousand  fortunes  have  been  gained 
and  lost,  rebellions  and  wars  have  raged,  famines  have 
blighted  whole  peoples.  Forts,  pagodas  and  palaces 
have  lined  its  banks.  The  gilded  barges  of  emperors 
have  drifted  idly  on  its  broad  bosom.  Exquisite 
painted  beauties  have  found  mirrors  in  its  neighboring 
canals.  Its  waters  drain  to-day  the  dusty  red  plain 
where  Lady  Ch'en,  the  Helen  of  China,  rocked  a 
throne  and  died. 

2 

The  morning  sun  rode  high.  Soft-footed  cabin 
stewards  in  blue  robes  removed  the  long  red  table- 
cloth and  laid  a  white.  By  ones  and  twos  the  passen- 
gers appeared  from  their  cabins  or  from  the  breezy 
deck  and  took  their  seats,  eying  one  another  with 
guarded  curiosity  as  they  bowed  a  morning  greeting. 

Miss  Andrews,  of  Indianapolis,  stepped  out  from 
her  cabin  through  a  narrow  corridor,  and  then,  at 
sight  of  the  table,  stopped  short,  while  her  color  rose 


FELLOW  VOYAGERS  9 

slightly.  Miss  Andrews  was  slender,  a  year  or  so 
under  thirty,  and,  in  a  colorless  way,  pretty.  Shy  and 
sensitive,  the  scene  before  her  was  one  her  mind's 
eye  had  failed  to  picture ;  the  seats  about  the  long  table 
were  half  filled,  and  entirely  with  men.  She  saw,  in 
that  one  quick  look,  the  face  of  a  young  German 
between  those  of  two  Englishmen.  A  remarkably 
thin  man  in  a  check  suit  looked  up  and  for  an  instant 
fixed  furtive  eyes  on  hers.  Just  beyond  him  sat  a 
big  man,  with  a  round  wooden  face  and  one  glass 
eye;  he  turned  his  head  with  his  eyes  to  look  at  her. 
A  quiet  man  of  fifty-odd,  with  gray  hair,  a  nearly 
white  mustache  that  was  cropped  close,  and  the  expres- 
sion of  quiet  satisfaction  that  only  wealth  and  settled 
authority  can  give,  was  putting  a  spoonful  of  condensed 
milk  into  his  coffee.  Next  to  him  sat  a  young  man — 
very  young,  certainly  not  much  more  than  twenty  or 
twenty-one — perhaps  his  son  (the  aquiline  nose  and 
slightly  receding  but  wide  and  full  forehead  were  the 
same) — rubbing  out  a  cigarette  on  his  butter  plate. 
He  had  been  smoking  before  breakfast.  She  remem- 
bered these  two  now ;  they  had  been  at  the  Astor  House 
in  Shanghai;  they  were  the  Kanes,  of  New  York,  the 
famous  Kanes.  They  called  the  son,  "Rocky" — 
Rocky  Kane. 

Unable  to  take  in  more,  Miss  Andrews  stepped 
back  a  little  way  into  the  corridor,  deciding  to  wait  for 
her  traveling  companion,  Miss  Means,  of  South  Bend. 
She  could  hardly  go  out  there  alone  and  sit  down  with 
all  those  men. 


io  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

But  just  then  a  door  opened  and  closed ;  and  across 
the  way,  coming  directly,  easily,  out  into  the  dining- 
room,  Miss  Andrews  beheld  the  surprising  figure  of  a 
slim  girl — or  a  girl  she  appeared  at  first  glance — of 
nineteen  or  twenty,  wearing  a  blue  middy  blouse  and 
short  blue  skirt.  Her  black  hair  was  drawn  loosely 
together  at  the  neck  and  tied  with  a  bow  of  black 
ribbon.  Her  somewhat  pale  face,  with  its  thin  line  of 
a  mouth,  straight  nose,  curving  black  eyebrows  and 
oddly  pale  eyes,  was  in  some  measure  attractive.  She 
took  her  seat  at  the  table  without  hesitation,  acknowl- 
edging the  reserved  greetings  of  various  of  the  men 
with  a  slight  inclination  of  the  head. 

It  seemed  to  Miss  Andrews  that  she  might  now 
go  on  in  there.  But  the  thought  that  some  of  these 
men  had  surely  noticed  her  confusion  was  disconcert- 
ing ;  and  so  it  was  a  relief  to  hear  Miss  Means  pattering 
on  behind  her.  For  that  firmly  thin  little  woman  had 
fought  life  to  a  standstill  and  now,  except  in  the  mo- 
ments of  prim  severity  that  came  unaccountably  into 
possession  of  her  thoughts,  found  it  dryly  amusing. 
They  took  their  seats,  these  two  little  ladies,  Miss 
Means  laying  her  copy  of  Things  Chinese  beside  her 
coffee  cup;  and  Miss  Andrews  tried  to  bow  her  casual 
good  mornings  as  the  curious  girl  in  the  middy  blouse 
had  done.  The  girl,  by  the  way,  seemed  a  very  little 
older  at  close  view. 

Miss  Andrews  stole  glimpses,  too,  at  young  Mr. 
Rocky  Kane.  He  was  a  handsome  boy,  with  thick 
chestnut  hair  from  which  he  had  not  wholly  succeeded 


FELLOW  VOYAGERS  n 

in  brushing  the  curl,  but  she  was  not  sure  that  she 
liked  the  flush  on  his  cheeks,  or  the  nervous  bright- 
ness of  the  eyes,  or  the  expression  about  the  mouth. 
There  had  been  stories  floating  about  the  hotel  in 
Shanghai.  He  plainly  lacked  discipline.  But  she 
saw  that  he  might  easily  fascinate  a  certain  sort  of 
woman. 

A  door  opened,  and  in  from  the  deck  came  an 
extraordinarily  tall  man,  stooping  as  he  entered.  On 
his  cap,  in  gilt,  was  lettered,  "ist  Mate."  He  took 
the  seat  opposite  Mr.  Kane,  senior,  next  to  the  head 
of  the  table.  It  seemed  to  Miss  Andrews  that  she  had 
never  seen  so  tall  a  man ;  he  must  have  stood  six  feet 
five  or  six  inches.  He  was  solid,  broad  of  shoulder,  a 
magnificent  specimen  of  manhood.  And  though  the 
hair  was  thin  on  top  of  his  head,  and  his  grave  quiet 
face  exhibited  the  deep  lines  of  middle  age,  he  moved 
with  almost  the  springy  step  of  a  boy.  If  others  at 
the  table  were  difficult  to  place  on  the  scale  of  life, 
this  mate  was  the  most  difficult  of  all.  With  that 
strong  reflective  face,  and  the  bearing  of  one  who 
knows  only  good  manners  (though  he  said  nothing  at 
all  after  his  first  courteously  spoken,  "Good  morn- 
ing!") he  could  not  have  been  other  than  a  gentleman 
— Miss  Andrews  felt  that — an  American  gentleman! 

Yet  his  position mate  of  a  river  steamer  in 

China. ... .  ! 

The  atmosphere  about  the  table  was  constrained 
throughout  the  meal.  The  Chinese  stewards  padded 
softly  about.  The  one-eyed  man  stared  around  the 


12  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

table  without  the  slightest  expression  on  his  impassive 
face.  The  girl  in  the  middy  blouse  kept  her  head  over 
her  plate.  Miss  Andrews  once  caught  Rocky  Kane 
glancing  at  her  with  an  expression  nearly  as  furtive  as 
that  of  the  thin  man  in  the  check  suit.  It  was  after 
this  small  incident  that  young  Kane  began  helping  her 
to  this  and  that;  and,  when  they  rose,  followed  her  out 
to  her  deck  chair  and  insisted  on  tucking  her  up  in  her 
robe. 

"These  fall  breezes  are  pretty  sharp  on  the  river," 
he  said.  "But  say,  maybe  it  isn't  hot  in  summer." 

"I  suppose  it  is,"  murmured  Miss  Andrews. 

"I've  been  out  here  a  couple  of  times  with  the  pater. 
You'll  find  the  river  interesting.  Oh,  not  down  here" 
— he  indicated  the  wide  expanse  of  muddy  water  and 
the  low-lying,  distant  shore — "but  beyond  Chinkiang 
and  Nanking,  where  it's  narrower.  Lots  of  quaint 
sights.  The  ports  are  really  fascinating.  We  stop  a 
lot,  you  know.  At  Wuhu  the  water  beggars  come 
out  in  tubs." 

"In  tubs!"  breathed  Miss  Andrews. 

Miss  Means  joined  them  then,  book  under  arm; 
and  met  his  offer  to  tuck  her  up  with  a  crisply  pointed, 
"No,  thank  you!" 

He  soon  drifted  away. 

Said  Miss  Andrews :  "Weren't  you  a  little  hard  on 
him,  Gerty?" 

"My  dear,"  replied  Miss  Means  severely — her 
Puritan  vein  strongly  uppermost — "that  young  man 
won't  do.  Not  at  all.  I  saw  him  myself,  one  night 


FELLOW  VOYAGERS  13 

at  the  Astor  House,  going  into  one  of  those  private 
dining-rooms  with  a  woman  who — well,  her  character, 

or  lack  of  it,  was  unmistakable! Right  there  in  the 

hotel ....  under  his   father's   eyes.     That's   what   too 
much  money  will  do  to  a  young  man,  if  you  ask  me !" 
"Oh....!"  breathed  Miss  Andrews,  looking  out 
with  startled  eyes  at  the  gulls. 


It  was  mid-afternoon  when  Captain  Benjamin 
remarked  to  his  first  mate:  "Tex  Connor's  got  down 
to  work,  Mr.  Doane.  Better  try  to  stop  it,  if  you 
don't  mind.  They're  in  young  Kane's  cabin — 
sixteen." 

Number  sixteen  was  the  last  cabin  aft  in  the  port 
side,  next  the  canvas  screen  that  separated  upper  class 
white  from  upper  class  yellow.  The  wooden  shutters 
had  been  drawn  over  the  windows  and  the  light  turned 
on  within.  Cigarette  smoke  drifted  thickly  out. 

They  were  slow  to  open.  Doane  heard  the  not 
unfamiliar  voice  of  the  Manila  Kid  advising  against 
it.  He  had  to  knock  repeatedly.  They  were  crowded 
together  in  the  narrow  space  between  berth  and  couch, 
a  board  across  their  knees — Connor  twisting  his  head 
to  fix  his  one  eye  on  the  intruder,  the  Kid,  in  his 
check  suit,  a  German  of  the  customs  and  Rocky  Kane. 
There  were  cards,  chips  and  a  heap  of  money  in 
American  and  English  notes  and  gold. 

"What  is  it?"  cried  Kane.     "What  do  you  want?" 


14  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

"You'd  better  stop  this,"  said  the  mate  quietly. 

"Oh,  come,  we're  just  having  a  friendly  game! 
What  right  have  you  to  break  into  a  private  room, 
anyway  ?" 

The  mate,  stooping  within  the  doorway,  took  the 
boy  in  with  thoughtful  eyes,  but  did  not  reply  directly. 

Connor,  with  another  look  upward,  picked  up  the 
cards,  and  with  the  uncanny  mental  quickness  of  a 
practised  croupier  redistributed  the  heap  of  money  to 
its  original  owners,  and  squeezed  out  without  a  word, 
the  mate  moving  aside  for  him.  The  German  left 
sulkily.  The  Kid  snapped  his  fingers  in  disgust,  and 
followed. 

Doane  was  moving  away  when  the  Kid  caught  his 
elbow.  He  asked:  "Did  Benjamin  send  you  around?" 

Doane  inclined  his  head. 

"Running  things  with  a  pretty  high  hand,  you 
and  him!" 

"Keep  away  from  that  boy,"  was  the  quiet  reply. 

The  thin  man  looked  up  at  the  grave  strong  face 
above  the  massive  shoulders;  hesitated;  walked  away. 
The  mate  was  again  about  to  leave  when  young  Kane 
spoke.  He  was  in  the  doorway  now,  leaning  there, 
hands  in  pockets,  his  eyes  blazing  with  indignation 
and  injured  pride. 

"Those  men  were  my  guests!"  he  cried. 

"I'm  sorry,  Mr.  Kane,  to  disturb  your  private 
affairs,  but — " 

"Why  did  you  do  it,  then?" 

"The  captain  will  not  allow  Tex  Connor  to  play 


FELLOW  VOYAGERS  15 

cards  on  this  boat.  At  least,  not  without  a  fair 
warning." 

The  boy's  face  pictured  the  confusion  in  his  mind, 
as  he  wavered  from  anger  through  surprise  into 
youthful  curiosity. 

"Oh "  he  murmured.  "Oh so  that's  Tex 

Connor." 

"Yes.  And  Jim  Watson  with  him.  He  was 
cashiered  from  the  army  in  the  Philippines.  He  is 
generally  known  now,  along  the  coast,  as  the  Manila 
Kid." 

"So  that's  Tex  Connor! He  managed  the 

North  End  Sporting  in  London,  three  years  ago." 

"Very  likely.  I  believe  he  is  known  in  London 
and  Paris." 

"He's  a  professional  gambler,  then  ?" 

"I  am  not  undertaking  to  characterize  him.  But 
if  you  would  accept  a  word  of  advice — " 

"I  haven't  asked  for  it,  that  I'm  aware  of."  An 
instant  after  he  had  said  this,  the  boy's  face  changed. 
He  looked  up  at  the  immense  frame  of  the  man  before 
him,  and  into  the  grave  face.  The  warm  color  came 
into  his  own.  "Oh,  I'm  sorry !"  he  cried.  "I  needn't 
have  said  that."  But  confusion  still  lay  behind  that 
immature  face.  The  very  presence  of  this  big  man 
affected  him  to  a  degree  wholly  out  of  keeping  with 
the  fellow's  station  in  life,  as  he  saw  it.  But  he  needn't 
have  been  rude.  "Look  here,  are  you  going  to  say  any- 
thing to  my  father  ?" 

"Certainly  not." 


16  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

"Witt  the  captain?" 

"You  will  have  to  ask  him  yourself.  Though  you 
could  hardly  expect  to  keep  it  from  him  long,  at  this 
rate." 

"Well — he's  so  busy!  He  shuts  himself  up  all  day 
with  Braker,  his  secretary.  The  chap  with  the  big 
spectacles.  You  see" — Kane  laughed  self-consciously; 
a  naively  boyish  quality  in  him,  kept  him  talking  more 
eagerly  than  he  knew — "the  pater's  reached  the  stage 
when  he  feels  he  ought  to  put  himself  right  before  the 
world.  I  guess  he's  been  a  great  old  pirate,  the  pater 
— you  know,  wrecking  railroads  and  grabbing  banks 
and  going  into  combinations.  Though  it's  just  what 
all  the  others  have  done.  From  what  I've  heard  about 
some  of  them — friends  of  ours,  too! — you  have  to, 
nowadays,  in  business.  No  place  for  little  men  or  soft 
men.  It's  a  two-fisted  game.  This  fellow  spent  a 
couple  of  years  writing  the  pater's  autobiography — 
seems  funny,  doesn't  it! — and  they're  going  over  it 
together  on  this  trip.  That's  why  Braker  came  along ; 
there's  no  time  at  home.  The  original  plan  was  to 
have  Braker  tutor  me.  That  was  when  I  broke  out 
of  college.  But,  lord ! " 

"You'll  excuse  me  now,"  said  the  mate. 

Meantime  the  Manila  Kid  had  sidled  up  to  the 
captain. 

"Say,  Cap,"  he  observed  cautiously,  "wha'd  you 
come  down  on  Tex  like  that  for?" 

"Oh,  come,"  replied  the  captain  testily,  not  turn- 
ing, "don't  bother  me!" 


FELLOW  VOYAGERS  17 

4 

"But  what  you  expect  us  to  do  all  this  time  on  the 
river — play  jackstraws?" 

"I  don't  care  what  you  do!  Some  trips  they  get 
up  deck  games." 

"Deck  games!"     The  Kid  sniffed. 

"You'll  find  plenty  to  read  in  the  library.*' 

"Read!...." 

"Then  I  guess  you'll  just  have  to  stand  it." 

For  some  time  they  stood  side  by  side  without 
speaking ;  the  captain  eying  the  river,  the  Kid  moodily 
observing  water  buffalo  bathing  near  the  bank. 

"Tex  has  got  that  Chinese  heavyweight  of  his 
aboard — down  below." 

"Oh— that  Tom  Sung?" 

"Yep.  Knocked  out  Bull  Kennedy  in  three  rounds 
at  the  Shanghai  Sporting.  Got  some  matches  for  him 
up  at  Peking  and  Tientsin.  Taking  him  over  to 
Japan  after  that.  There's  an  American  marine  that's 
cleaned  up  three  ships."  He  was  silent  for  a  space; 
then  added :  "I  suppose,  now,  if  we  was  to  arrange  a 
little  boxing  entertainment,  you  wouldn't  stand  for 
that  either,  eh?" 

"Oh,  that's  all  right.  Take  the  social  hall  if  the 
ladies  don't  object.  But  who  would  you  put  up  against 
him?" 

"Well — if  we  could  find  a  young  fellow  on  board, 
Tex  could  tell  Tom  to  go  light." 

"You  might  ask  Mr.  Doane.  He  complains  he 
ain't  getting  exercise  enough." 


i8  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

"He's  pretty  old — still,  I'd  hate  to  go  up  against 
him  myself Say,  you  ask  him,  Cap!" 

"I'll  think  it  over.  He's  a  little I'll  tell  you 

now  he  wouldn't  stand  for  your  making  a  show  of  it. 
If  he  did  it,  it  'ud  just  be  for  exercise." 

"Oh,  that's  all  right!" 


Miss  Means  awoke  with  a  start.  It  was  the  second 
morning  out,  at  sunrise.  The  engines  were  still,  but 
from  without  an  extraordinary  hubbub  rent  the  air. 
Drums  were  beating,  reed  instruments  wailing  in  weird 
dissonance,  and  innumerable  voices  chattering  and 
shouting.  A  sudden  crackling  suggested  fire-crackers 
in  quantity.  Miss  means  raised  herself  on  one  elbow, 
and  saw  her  roommate  peeping  out  over  the  blind. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked. 

"It  looks  very  much  like  the  real  China  we've 
read  about,"  replied  Miss  Andrews,  raising  her  voice 
above  the  din.  "It's  certainly  very  different  from 
Shanghai." 

The  steamer  lay  alongside  a  landing  hulk  at  the 
foot  of  broad  steps.  Warehouses  crowded  the  bank 
and  the  bund  above,  some  of  Western  construction ;  but 
the  crowded  scene  on  hulk  and  steps  and  bund,  and 
among  the  matting-roofed  sampans,  hundreds  of 
which  were  crowded  against  the  bank,  was  wholly 
Oriental.  From  every  convenient  mast  and  pole  pen- 
nants and  banners  spread  their  dragons  on  the  fresh 


FELLOW  VOYAGERS  19 

early  breeze.  A  temporary  pai-low,  or  archway,  at 
the  top  of  the  steps  was  gay  with  fresh  paint  and 
streamers.  In  the  air  above  were  scores  of  kites, 
designed  and  painted  to  represent  dragons  and  birds 
of  prey,  which  the  owners  were  maneuvering  in  mimic 
aerial  warfare ;  swooping  and  darting  and  diving.  As 
Miss  Means  looked,  one  huge  painted  bird  fell  in 
shreds  to  a  neighboring  roof,  and  the  swarming  assem- 
blage cheered  ecstatically. 

Soldiers  were  marching  in  good-humored  disorder 
down  the  bund,  in  the  inevitable  faded  blue  with  blue 
turbans  wound  about  their  heads.  It  appeared  as  if 
not  another  person  could  force  his  way  down  on  the 
hulk  without  crowding  at  least  one  of  its  occupants  into 
the  water,  yet  on  they  came;  and  so  far  as  our  two 
little  ladies  could  see  none  fell.  Fully  two  hundred  of 
the  soldiers  there  were,  with  short  rifles  and  bayonets. 
Amid  great  confusion  they  formed  a  lane  down  the 
steps  and  across  to  the  gangway. 

Next  came  a  large,  bright-colored  sedan  chair 
slung  on  cross-poles,  with  eight  bearers  and  with 
groups  of  silk-clad  mandarins  walking  before  and 
behind.  Farther  back,  swaying  along,  were  eight  or 
ten  more  chairs,  each  with  but  four  bearers  and  each 
tightly  closed,  waiting  in  line  as  the  chair  of  the  great 
one  was  set  carefully  down  on  the  hulk  and  opened 
by  the  attending  officials. 

Deliberately,  smilingly,  the  great  one  stepped  out. 
He  was  a  man  of  seventy  or  older,  with  a  drooping 
gray  mustache  and  narrow  chin  beard  of  gray  that 


2o  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

contrasted  oddly  with  the  black  queue.  His  robe 
was  black  with  a  square  bit  of  embroidery  in  rich  color 
on  the  breast.  Above  his  hat  of  office  a  huge  round 
ruby  stood  high  on  a  gold  mount,  and  a  peacock 
feather  slanted  down  behind  it. 

Bowing  to  right  and  left,  he  ascended  the  gang- 
plank, the  mandarins  following.  There  were  fifteen 
of  these,  each  with  a  round  button  on  his  plumed  hat 
— those  in  the  van  of  red  coral,  the  others  of  sapphire 
and  lapis  lazuli,  rock  crystal,  white  stone  and  gold. 

One  by  one  the  lesser  chairs  were  brought  out  on 
the  hulk  and  opened.  From  the  first  stepped  a  stout 
woman  of  mature  years,  richly  clad  in  heavily  embroid- 
ered silks,  with  loops  of  pearls  about  her  neck  and 
shoulders,  and  with  painted  face  under  the  elaborately 
built-up  head-dress.  Other  women  of  various  ages 
followed,  less  conspicuously  clad.  From  the  last  chair 
appeared  a  young  woman,  slim  and  graceful  even  in 
enveloping  silks,  her  face,  like  the  others,  a  mask  of 
white  paint  and  rouge,  with  lips  carmined  into  a  perfect 
cupid's  bow.  And  with  her,  clutching  her  hand,  was  a 
little  girl  of  six  or  seven,  who  laughed  merrily  upward 
at  the  great  steamer  as  she  trotted  along. 

Blue-clad  servants  followed,  a  hundred  or  more, 
and  swarming  cackling  women  with  unpainted  faces 
and  flapping  black  trousers,  and  porters — long  lines 
of  porters — with  boxes  and  bales  and  bundles  swung 
from  the  inevitable  bamboo  poles. 

At  last  they  were  all  aboard,  and  the  steamer 
moved  out. 


FELLOW  VOYAGERS  21 

"Who  were  all  those  women,  in  the  chairs,  do  you 
suppose?"  asked  Miss  Andrews. 

"His  wives,  probably." 

"Oh....!" 

"Or  concubines." 

Miss  Andrews  was  silent.  She  could  still  see  the 
waving  crowd  on  the  wharf,  and  the  banners  and  kites. 

"He  must  be  at  least  a  prince,  with  all  that 
retinue." 

Miss  Andrews,  thinking  rapidly  of  Aladdin  and 
Marco  Polo,  of  wives  and  concubines  and  strange  bar- 
barous ways,  brought  herself  to  say  in  a  nearly  matter- 
of-fact  voice:  "But  those  women  all  had  natural  feet. 
I  don't  understand." 

Miss  Means  reached  for  her  Things  Chinese ;  looked 
up  "Feet,"  "Women,"  "Dress,"  and  other  headings; 
finally  found  an  answer,  through  a  happy  inspiration, 
under  "Manchus." 

"That's  it!"  she  explained;  and  read:  "The 
Manchus  do  not  bind  the  feet  of  their  women.' ' 

"Well!"  Thus  Miss  Andrews,  after  a  long 
moment  with  more  than  a  hint  of  emotional  stir  in 
her  usually  quiet  voice :  "We  certainly  have  a  remark- 
able assortment  of  fellow  passengers.  That  curious 
silent  girl  in  the  middy  blouse traveling  alone.  .  ." 

"Remarkable,  and  not  altogether  edifying," 
observed  the  practical  Miss  Means. 


CHAPTER  II 

BETWEEN  THE  WORLDS 

HPOWARD  noon  Miss  Means  and  Miss  Andrews 
were  in  their  chairs  on  deck,  when  a  gay  little 
outburst  of  laughter  caught  their  attention,  and  around 
the  canvas  screen  came  running  the  child  they  had 
seen  on  the  wharf  at  Nanking.  A  sober  Chinese  ser- 
vant (Miss  Means  and  Miss  Andrews  were  not  to 
know  that  he  was  a  eunuch)  followed  at  a  more 
dignified  pace. 

The  child  was  dressed  in  a  quilted  robe  of  bright 
flowered  silk,  the  skirt  flaring  like  a  bell  about  the 
ankles,  the  sleeves  extending  down  over  the  hands. 
Her  shoes  were  high,  of  black  cloth  with  paper  soles. 
Over  the  robe  she  wore  a  golden  yellow  vest,  short- 
sleeved,  trimmed  with  ribbon  and  fastened  with  gilt 
buttons.  Over  her  head  and  shoulders  was  a  hood  of 
fox  skin  worn  with  the  fur  inside,  tied  with  ribbons 
under  the  chin,  and  decorated,  on  the  top  of  the  head, 
with  the  eyes,  nose  and  ears  of  a  fox.  As  she  scam- 
pered along  the  deck  she  lowered  her  head  and 
charged  at  the  big  first  mate.  He  smiled,  caught  her 

22 


BETWEEN  THE  WORLDS  23 

shoulders,  spun  her  about,  and  set  her  free  again; 
then,  nodding  pleasantly  to  the  eunuch,  he  passed  on. 

Before  the  two  ladies  he  paused  to  say:  "We  are 
coming  into  T'aiping,  the  city  that  gave  a  name  to 
China's  most  terrible  rebellion.  If  you  care  to  step 
around  to  the  other  side,  you'll  see  something  of  the 
quaint  life  along  the  river." 

"He  seems  very  nice — the  mate,"  remarked  Miss 
Andrews.  "I  find  myself  wondering  who  he  may 
have  been.  He  is  certainly  a  gentleman." 

"I  understand,"  replied  Miss  Means  coolly,  "that 
one  doesn't  ask  that  question  on  the  China  Coast." 

They  found  the  old  river  port  drab  and  dilapidated, 
yet  rich  in  the  color  of  teeming  human  life.  The 
river,  as  usual,  was  crowded  with  small  craft.  Nearly 
a  score  of  these  were  awaiting  the  steamer,  each  evi- 
dently housing  an  entire  family  under  its  little  arch 
of  matting,  and  each  extending  bamboo  poles  with 
baskets  at  the  ends.  As  the  steamer  came  to  a  stop, 
a  long  row  of  these  baskets  appeared  at  the  rail,  while 
cries  and  songs  arose  from  the  water. 

The  little  Manchu  girl  had  found  a  friend  in  Mr. 
Rocky  Kane.  He  was  holding  her  on  the  rail  and 
supplying  her  with  brass  cash  which  she  dropped 
gaily  into  the  baskets.  The  eunuch  stood  smiling  by. 
After  tiffin  the  child  appeared  again  and  sought  her 
new  friend.  She  would  sit  on  his  knee  and  pry  open 
his  mouth  to  see  where  the  strange  sounds  came  from. 
And  his  cigarettes  delighted  her. 


24  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 


It  was  the  Manila  Kid  himself  who  asked  Miss 
Means  and  Miss  Andrews  if  they  would  mind  a  bit 
of  a  boxing  match  in  the  social  hall.  They  promptly 
withdrew  to  their  cabin,  after  Miss  Means  had  uttered 
a  bewildered  but  dignified :  "Not  in  the  least !  Don't 
think  of  us !" 

Shortly  after  dinner  the  cabin  stewards  stretched 
a  rope  around  four  pillars,  just  forward  of  the  dining 
table.  The  men  lighted  cigarettes  and  cigars,  and 
moved  up  with  quickening  interest.  Tex  Connor,  who 
had  disappeared  directly  after  the  coffee,  brought  in 
his  budding  champion,  a  large  grinning  yellow  man 
in  a  bathrobe.  The  second  mate,  and  two  of  the 
engineers  found  seats  about  the  improvised  rings. 
Then  an  outer  door  opened,  and  the  great  mandarin 
appeared,  bowing  and  smiling  courteously  with  hands 
clasped  before  his  breast.  The  fifteen  lesser  manda- 
rins followed,  all  rich  color  and  rustling  silk. 

The  young  officers  sprang  to  their  feet  and 
arranged  chairs  for  the  party.  The  great  man  seated 
himself,  and  his  attendants  grouped  themselves  behind 
him. 

Into  this  expectant  atmosphere  came  the  mate,  in 
knickerbockers  and  a  sweater,  stooping  under  the 
lintel  of  the  door,  then  straightening  up  and  stop- 
ping short.  His  eyes  quickly  took  in  the  crowded 
little  picture — the  gray-bearded  mandarin  in  the  ring- 
side chair,  backed  with  a  mass  of  Oriental  color;  that 


BETWEEN  THE  WORLDS  25 

other  personage,  Dawley  Kane,  directly  opposite,  with 
the  aquiline  nose,  the  guardedly  keen  eyes  and  the 
quite  humorless  face,  as  truly  a  mandarin  among  the 
whites  as  was  calm  old  Kang  among  the  yellows ;  the 
flushed  eager  face  of  Rocky  Kane;  the  other  whites, 
all  smoking,  all  watching  him  sharply,  all  impatient 
for  the  show.  He  frowned;  then,  as  the  mandarin 
smiled,  came  gravely  forward,  bent  under  the  rope  and 
addressed  him  briefly  in  Chinese. 

The  mandarin,  frankly  pleased  at  hearing  his  own 
tongue,  rose  to  reply.  Each  clasped  his  own  hands 
and  bowed  low,  with  the  observance  of  a  long-hardened 
etiquette  so  dear  to  the  Oriental  heart. 

"How  about  a  little  bet?"  whispered  Rocky  Kane 
to  Tex  Connor.  "I  wouldn't  mind  taking  the  big 
fellow." 

"What  odds'll  you  give?"  replied  the  impassive 
one. 

"Odds  nothing!  Your  man's  a  trained  fighter, 
and  he  must  be  twenty  years  younger." 

"But  this  man  Doane's  an  old  athlete.  He's  boxed, 
off  and  on,  all  his  life.  And  he's  kept  in  condition. 
Look  at  his  weight,  and  his  reach." 

"What's  the  distance?" 

"Oh — six  two-minute  rounds." 

"Who'll  referee?" 

"Well — one  of  the  Englishmen." 

But  the  Englishmen  were  not  at  hand.  A  friendly 
bout  between  yellow  and  white  overstepped  their 


26  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

code.  One  of  the  customs  men,  an  Australian,  accepted 
the  responsibility,  however. 

"I'll  lay  you  a  thousand,  even,"  said  Rocky  Kane. 

"Make  it  two  thousand." 

"I'll  give  you  two  thousand,  even,"  said  Dawley 
Kane  quietly. 

"Taken!    Three  thousand,  altogether — gold." 

The  mate,  turning  away  from  the  mandarin, 
caught  this;  stood  motionless  looking  at  them,  his 
brows  drawing  together. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  finally  remarked,  "I  came  here 
with  the  understanding  that  it  was  to  be  only  a  little 
private  exercise.  I  had  no  objection,  of  course,  to 
your  looking  on,  some  of  you,  but  this . . . . " 

"Oh,  come!"  said  Connor.  "It's  just  for  points. 
"Tom's  not  going  to  fight  you." 

Young  Kane,  gripping  the  rope  nervously  with  both 
hands,  cried :  "You  wouldn't  quit !" 

The  mate  looked  down  at  these  men.  "No,"  he 
replied,  in  the  same  gravely  quiet  manner,  "I  shall  go 
on  with  it.  I  do  this" — he  made  the  point  firmly,  with 
a  dignity  that  in  some  degree,  for  the  moment,  over- 
awed the  younger  men — "I  do  it  because  his  excel- 
lency has  paid  us  the  honor  of  coming  here  in  this 
democratic  way.  He  tells  me  that  he  is  fond  of  boxing. 
I  shall  try  to  entertain  him."  And  he  drew  the 
sweater  over  his  head,  and  caught  the  gloves  that  the 
Kid  tossed  him. 

The  elder  Kane  shrewdly  took  him  in.  The  author- 
ity of  the  man  was  not  to  be  questioned.  Without  so 


BETWEEN  THE  WORLDS  27 

much  as  raising1  his  voice  he  had  dominated  the  strange 
little  gathering.  Physically  he  was  a  delight  to  the 
eye ;  anywhere  in  the  forties,  his  hair  thin  to  the  verge 
of  baldness,  his  strong  sober  face  deeply  lined,  yet 
with  shoulders,  arms  and  chest  that  spoke  of  great 
muscular  power  and  a  waist  without  a  trace  of  the 
added  girth  that  middle  age  usually  brings;  of  sound 
English  stock,  doubtless;  the  sort  that  in  the  older 
land  would  ride  to  hounds  at  eighty. 

Dawley  Kane  looked,  then,  at  the  Chinese  heavy- 
weight. This  man,  though  not  quite  a  match  in  size 
for  the  giant  before  him,  appeared  every  inch  the 
athlete.  Kane  understood  the  East  too  well  to  find 
him  at  all  surprising;  he  had  seen  the  strapping 
northern  men  of  Yuan  Shi  K'ai's  new  army;  he  knew 
that  the  trained  runners  of  the  Imperial  Government 
were  expected,  on  occasion,  to  cover  their  hundred 
miles  in  a  day;  in  a  word,  that  the  curious  common 
American  notion  of  the  Chinese  physique  was  based 
on  an  occasional  glimpse  of  a  tropical  laundryman. 
And  he  settled  back  in  his  comfortable  chair  confident 
of  a  run  for  his  money.  The  occasion  promised, 
indeed,  excellent  entertainment. 


The  mate,  still  with  that  slight  frown,  glanced 
about.  Not  one  of  the  crowded  eager  faces  about  the 
ropes  exhibited  the  slightest  interest  in  himself  as  a 
human  being.  He  was  but  the  mate  of  a  river  steamer; 


28  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

a  man  who  had  not  kept  up  with  his  generation  (the 
reason  didn't  matter) — an  individual  of  no  standing. 
....  He  put  up  his  hands. 

Tom  Sung  fell  into  a  crouch.  With  his  left 
shoulder  advanced,  his  chin  tucked  away  behind  it, 
he  moved  in  close  and  darted  quick  but  hard  blows  to 
the  stomach  and  heart.  Doane  stepped  backward,  and 
edged  around  him,  feeling  him  out,  studying  his  hands 
and  arms,  his  balance,  his  footwork.  It  early  became 
clear  that  he  was  a  thoroughgoing  professional,  who 
meant  to  go  in  and  make  a  fight  of  it ....  Doane,  spar- 
ring lightly,  considered  this.  Connor,  of  course,  had 
no  sportsmanship. 

Tom's  left  hand  shot  up  through  Doane's  guard, 
landing  clean  on  his  face  with  a  sharp  thud;  followed 
up  with  a  remarkably  quick  right  swing  that  the  mate, 
by  sidestepping,  succeeded  only  in  turning  into  a  glanc- 
ing blow.  And  then,  as  Doane  ducked  a  left  thrust,  he 
uppercut  with  all  his  strength.  The  blow  landed  on 
Doane's  forearms  with  a  force  that  shook  him  from 
head  to  foot. 

A  sound  of  breath  sharply  indrawn  came  from 
the  spectators,  to  most  of  whom  it  must  have  appeared 
that  the  blow  had  gone  home.  Doane,  slipping  away 
and  mopping  the  sweat  from  eyes  and  forehead,  heard 
the  sound;  and  for  an  instant  saw  them,  all  leaning 
forward,  tense,  eager  for  a  knockout,  the  one  pos- 
sible final  thrill. 

The  yellow  man  was  at  him  again,  landing  left, 
right  and  left  on  his  stomach,  and  butting  a  shaven 


BETWEEN  THE  WORLDS  29 

head  with  real  force  against  his  chin.  For  an  instant 
stars  danced  about  his  eyes.  Elbows  had  followed  the 
head,  roughing  at  his  face.  Doane,  quickly  recover- 
ing, leaped  back  and  dropped  his  hands. 

"What  is  this?"  he  called  sharply  to  Connor,  whose 
round  expressionless  face  with  its  one  cool  light  eye 
and  thin  little  mouth  looked  at  him  without  response. 
"Head?  Elbows?  Is  your  man  going  to  box,  or 
not?" 

The  eyes  that  turned  in  surprise  about  the  ring- 
side were  not  friendly.  These  men  cared  nothing  for 
his  little  difficulties;  their  blood  was  up.  They 
wanted  what  the  Americans  among  them  would  term 
"action"  and  "results." 

Tom  was  tearing  at  him  again.  So  it  was,  after 
all,  to  be  a  fight.  No  preliminary  understandings 
mattered.  He  felt  a  profound  disgust,  as  by  main 
strength  he  stopped  rush  after  rush,  making  full  use 
of  his  greater  reach  to  pin  Tom's  arms  and  hurl  him 
back;  a  disgust  however,  that  was  changing  gradually 
to  anger.  He  had  known,  all  his  life,  the  peculiar 
joy  that  comes  to  a  man  of  great  strength  and  activity 
in  any  thorough  test  of  his  power. 

The  customs  man  called  time. 


Rocky  Kane — flushed,  excited,  looking  like  a  boy 
— felt  in  his  pockets  for  cigarettes;  found  none;  and 
slipped  hurriedly  out  to  the  deck. 


30  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

There  a  silken  rustle  stopped  him  short. 

A  slim  figure,  enveloped  in  an  embroidered  gown, 
was  moving  back  from  a  cabin  window.  The  light 
from  within  fell — during  a  brief  second — full  on  an 
oval  face  that  was  brightly  painted,  red  and  white, 
beneath  glossy  black  hair.  The  nose  was  straight,  and 
not  wide.  The  eyes,  slanted  only  a  little,  looked 
brightly  out  from  under  penciled  brows.  She  was 
moving  swiftly  toward  the  canvas  screen ;  but  he,  more 
swiftly,  leaped  before  her,  stared  at  her;  laughed  softly 
in  sheer  delighted  surprise.  Then,  with  a  quick  glance 
about  the  deck,  breathing  out  he  knew  not  what  terms 
of  crude  compliment  he  reached  for  her;  pursued  her 
to  the  rail;  caught  her. 

"You  little  beauty !"  he  was  whispering  now.  "You 
wonder!  You  darling!  You're  just  too  good  to  be 
true!"  Beside  himself,  laughing  again,  he  bent  over 
to  kiss  her.  But  she  wrenched  an  arm  free,  fought 
him  off,  and  leaned,  breathless,  against  the  rail. 

"Little  yellow  tiger,  eh?"  he  cried  softly.  "Well, 
I'm  a  big  white  tiger!" 

She  said  in  English :  "This  is  amazing !" 
He  stood  frozen  until  she  had  disappeared  behind 
the  canvas  screen.  Then  he  staggered  back ;  stumbled 
against  a  deck  chair;  turning,  found  the  strange  thin 
girl  of  the  middy  blouse  stretched  out  there  comfort- 
ably in  her  rug. 

She  said,  with  a  cool  ease:  "It's  so  pleasant  out 
here  this  evening,  I  really  haven't  felt  like  going  in." 

With  a  muttered  something — he  knew  not  what — 


BETWEEN  THE  WORLDS  31 

"he  rushed  off  to  his  cabin ;  then  rushed  back  into  the 
social  hall. 

5 

The  customs  man  called  time  for  the  second  round. 

As  Doane  advanced  to  the  center  of  the  ring,  Tom 
rushed,  as  before,  head  down.  Doane  uppercut  him; 
then  threw  him  back,  forestalling  a  clinch.  The  next 
two  or  three  rushes  he  met  in  the  same  determined 
but  negative  way ;  hitting  a  few  blows  but  for  the  most 
part  pushing  him  off.  The  sweat  kept  running  into 
his  eyes  as  he  exerted  nearly  his  full  strength.  And 
Tom  Sung's  shoulders  and  arms  glistened  a  bright 
yellow  under  the  electric  lights. 

Rocky  Kane,  lighting  a  cigarette  and  tossing  the 
blazing  match  away,  called  loudly :  "Oh,  hit  him !  For 
God's  sake,  do  something!  Don't  be  afraid  of  a 
Chink!" 

Doane  glanced  over  at  him.    Tom  rushed.     Doane 
felt  again  the  crash  of  solid  body  blows  delivered  with 
all  the  force  of  more  than  two  hundred  pounds  of  well- 
trained  muscle  behind  them.     Again  he  winced  and 
retreated.    He  knew  well  that  he  could  endure  only  a 
certain  amount  of  this  punishment. ....  .Suddenly  Tom 

struck  with  the  sharpest  impact  yet.    Again  that  hard 
head  butted  his  chin ;  an  elbow  and  the  heel  of  a  glove 
roughed     his     face ....  Doane     summoned     all     his 

strength  to  push  him  off.  Then  he  stepped  deliberately 
forward. 

At    last   the   primitive    vigor   in    this   giant   was 


32  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

aroused.  His  eyes  blazed.  There  was  no  manner  of 
pleasure  in  hurting  a  fellow  man  of  any  color;  but 
since  the  particular  man  was  asking  for  it,  insisting 
on  it,  there  was  no  longer  a  choice.  The  fellow  had 
clearly  been  trained  to  this  foul  sort  of  work.  That 
would  be  Connor's  way,  to  take  every  advantage,  place 
a  large  side  bet  and  then  make  certain  of  winning. 
There  was,  of  course,  no  more  control  of  boxing  out 
here  on  the  coast  than  of  gambling  or  other  vice. 

When  Tom  next  came  forward,  Doane,  paying  not 
the  slightest  heed  to  his  own  defense,  exchanged  blows 
with  him ;  planted  a  right  swing  that  raised  a  welt  on 
the  yellow  cheek.  A  moment  later  he  landed  another 
on  the  same  spot. 

At  the  sound  of  these  blows  the  men  about  the 
ringside  straightened  up  with  electric  excitement. 
Then  again  the  long  muscular  right  arm  swung,  and 
the  tightly  gloved  fist  crashed  through  Tom's  guard 
with  a  force  that  knocked  him  nearly  off  his  balance. 
Doane  promptly  brought  him  back  with  a  left  hook 
that  sounded  to  the  now  nearly  frantic  spectators  as 
if  it  must  have  broken  the  cheek-bone. 

Tom  crouched,  covered  and  backed  away. 

"Have  you  had  enough?"  Doane  asked.  As  there 
was  no  reply,  he  repeated  the  question  in  Chinese. 

Tom,  instead  of  answering,  tried  another  rush, 
floundering  wildly,  swinging  his  arms. 

Doane  stepped  firmly  forward,  swinging  up  a  ter- 
rific body  blow  that  caught  the  big  Chinaman  at  the 
pit  of  the  stomach,  lifted  his  feet  clear  of  the  floor 


BETWEEN  THE  WORLDS  33 

and  dropped  him  heavily  in  a  sitting  position,  from 
which  he  rolled  slowly  over  on  his  side. 

"What  are  you  trying  to  do?"  cried  the  Manila 
Kid,  above  the  babel  of  excited  voices,  as  he  rushed 
in  there  and  revived  his  fellow  champion.  "What 
are  you  trying  to  do — kill  'im?" 

The  mate  stripped  off  his  wet  gloves  and  tossed 
them  to  the  floor.  "Teach  your  man  to  box  fairly," 
he  replied,  "or  some  one  else  will."  With  which  he 
stepped  out  of  the  ring,  drew  on  his  sweater  and,  with 
a  courteous  bow  to  the  mandarin,  went  out  on  deck. 
There,  after  depositing  with  the  purser  the  winnings 
paid  over  by  a  surly  Connor,  Dawley  Kane  found  him. 

"Well !"  cried  the  hitherto  calm  financier,  "you  put 
up  a  remarkable  fight." 

Doane  looked  down  at  him,  unable  to  reply.  He 
was  still  breathing  hard;  his  thoughts  were  traveling 
strange  paths.  He  heard  the  man  saying  other  things ; 
asking,  at  length,  about  the  mandarin. 

"He  is  Kang  Yu,"  Doane  replied  now,  civilly 
enough,  "Viceroy  of  Nanking." 

"No!    Really?    Why,  he  was  in  America!" 

"He  toured  the  world.  He  has  been  minister  at 
Paris,  Berlin,  London,  I  believe.  He  is  a  great  states- 
man— certainly  the  greatest  out  here  since  Li  Hung 
Chang." 

"No — how  extremely  interesting!" 

"He  is  ruler  of  fifty  million  souls,  or  more."  The 
mate  had  found  his  voice.  He  was  speaking  a  thought 
quickly,  with  a  very  little  heat,  as  if  eager  to  convince 


34  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

the  great  man  of  America  of  the  standing  and  worth 
of  this  great  man  of  China.  "He  has  his  own  army 
and  his  own  mint.  He  controls  railroads,  arsenals, 
mills  and  mines.  Incidentally,  he  is  president  of  this 
line." 

"The  Chinese  Navigation  Company?  Really! 
.You  are  acquainted  with  him  yourself?" 

"No.  But  he  is  a  commanding  figure  hereabouts. 
And  of  course,  I — at  present  I'm  an  employee  of  the 
Merchants'  Line." 

"Oh,  yes!  Yes,  of  course!  You  seem  to  speak" 
Chinese." 

"Yes" — the  mate's  voice  was  dry  now — "I  speak 
Chinese." 

A  shuffling  sound  reached  their  ears.  Both 
turned.  The  viceroy  had  come  out  of  the  cabin  and 
was  advancing  toward  them,  followed  by  all  his  man- 
darins. Before  them  he  paused,  and  again  exchanged 
with  the  mate  the  charming  Eastern  greeting.  In 
Chinese  he  said — and  the  language  that  needs  only  a 
resonant,  cultured  voice  to  exhibit  its  really  great 
dignity  and  beauty,  rolled  like  music  from  his  tongue : 

"It  will  give  me  great  pleasure,  sir,  if  you  will  be 
my  guest  to-morrow  at  twelve." 

The  mate  replied,  with  a  grave  smile  and  a  bow: 
"It  is  a  privilege.  I  am  your  servant." 

They  bowed  again,  with  hands  to  breast.  And  all 
the  mandarins  bowed.  Then  they  moved  away  in 
stately  silence  to  their  quarters  aft. 


BETWEEN  THE  WORLDS  35 

Kane  spoke  now:  "How  very  curious!  Very 
curious !" 

Doane  said  nothing-  to  this. 

"They  really  appear  to  have  charm,  these  upper 
class  people.  It's  a  pity  they  are  so  poorly  adapted  to 
the  modern  struggle." 

Doane  looked  down  at  him,  then  away.  As  a  man 
acquainted  with  the  East  he  knew  the  futility  of  dis- 
cussing it  with  a  Western  mind;  above  all  with  the 
mind  of  a  successful  business  man,  to  whom  activity, 
drive,  energy,  were  very  religion. 

His  own  thoughts  were  ranging  swiftly  back  over 
two  thousand  years,  to  the  strong  civilization  of  the 
Han  Dynasty,  when  disciplined  Chinese  armies  kept 
open  the  overland  route  to  Bactria  and  Parthia,  that 
the  silks  and  porcelains  and  pearls  might  travel  safely 
to  waiting  Roman  hands;  to  the  later,  richer,  riper 
centuries  of  Tang  and  Sung,  after  Rome  fell,  when 
Chinese  civilization  stood  alone,  a  majestic  fabric  in 
an  otherwise  crumbled  and  chaotic  world — when  cer- 
tain of  the  noblest  landscapes  and  portraits  ever 
painted  were  finding  expression,  when  philosophers 
held  high  dreams  of  building  conflicting  dogma  into 
a  single  structure  of  comprehensive  and  serene  faith. 
The  Chinese  alone,  down  the  uncounted  centuries,  had 
held  their  racial  integrity,  their  very  language.  Surely, 
at  some  mystical  but  seismic  turning  of  the  racial  tide, 
they  would  rise  again  among  the  nations. 

This  giant,  standing  there  in  sweater  and  knicker- 
bockers, bareheaded,  gazing  out  at  the  dark  river,  was 


36  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

riot  sentimentalizing.  He  knew  well  enough  the  pres- 
ent problems.  But  he  saw  them  with  half-Eastern 
eyes;  he  saw  America  too,  with  half- Eastern  eyes — 
and  so  he  could  not  talk  at  all  to  the  very  able  man 
beside  him  who  saw  the  West  and  the  world  with 
wholly  Western  eyes.  No,  it  was  futile.  Even  when 
the  great  New  Yorker,  who  had  just  won  two  thousand 
dollars,  gold,  spoke  with  wholly  unexpected  kindness, 
the  gulf  between  their  two  minds  remained 
unfathomable. 

"I  want  you  to  forgive  me,  sir — I  do  not  even 
know  your  name,  you  see — but,  frankly,  you  interest 
me.  You  are  altogether  too  much  of  a  man  for  the 
work  you  are  doing  here.  That  is  clear.  I  would  be 
glad  to  have  you  tell  me  what  the  trouble  is.  Per- 
haps I  could  help  you." 

This  from  the  man  who  held  General  Railways 
in  the  hollow  of  his  hand,  and  Universal  Hydro- 
Electric,  and  Consolidated  Shipping,  and  the  Kane, 
Wilmarth  and  Cantey  banks,  a  chain  that  reached  liter- 
ally from  sea  to  sea  across  the  great  young  country 
that  worshiped  the  shell  of  political  freedom  as  insist- 
ently as  the  Chinese  worshiped  their  ancestors,  yet 
gave  over  the  newly  vital  governing  power  of  finance 
into  wholly  irresponsible  private  hands. 

The  situation,  grotesque  in  its  beginning,  seemed 
now  incredible  to  Doane.  He  drew  a  hand  across  his 
brow;  then  spoke,  with  compelling  courtesy  but  with 
also  a  dismissive  power  that  the  other  felt :  "You  are 
very  kind,  Mr.  Kane.  At  some  other  time  I  shall  be 


BETWEEN  THE  WORLDS  37 

glad  to  talk  with  you.    But  my  hours  are  rather  exact- 
ing, and  I  am  tired." 

"Naturally.  You  have  given  a  wonderful  exhibi- 
tion of  what  a  man  of  character  can  do  with  his 
body.  I  wish  I  had  you  for  a  physical  trainer.  And 
I  wish  the  example  might  start  my  boy  to  thinking 
more  wholesomely . . .  Good  night !"  And  he  extended 
a  friendly  hand. 

6 

Mr.  Kane's  boy  presented  himself  on  the  following 
morning  as  an  acute  problem.  He  was  about  the  deck, 
shortly  after  breakfast,  playing  with  the  Manchu 
child.  Then,  after  eleven,  Captain  Benjamin  handed 
his  mate  a  note  that  had  been  scribbled  in  pencil  on  a 
leaf  torn  from  a  pocket  note-book  and  folded  over.  It 
was  addressed : 

"To  the  Chinese  Lady  who  spoke  English  last 
night."  And  the  content  was  as  follows :  "I  shouldn't 
have  been  rude,  but  I  must  see  you  again.  Can't  you 
slip  around  the  canvas  this  evening,  late?  I'll  be 
watching  for  you."  There  was  no  signature. 

"Make  it  out?"  asked  the  captain.  "Old  Kang 
sent  it  up  to  me — asks  us  to  speak  to  the  young  man. 
But  how'm  I  to  know  which  young  man  it  is?." 

"Do  you  know  how  it  was  sent?" 

"Yes.    The  little  princess  took  it  back." 

"It  won't  be  hard  to  find  the  man." 

"You  know?" 

"I  think  so." 


38  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

"Well,  just  put  him  wise,  will  you?" 

"I'll  speak  to  him." 

"Wait  a  minute!    You  thinking  of  young  Kane?" 

The  mate  inclined  his  head. 

"Well — you  know  who  he  is,  don't  you?  Who 
they  are?" 

Doane  bowed  again. 

"Better  use  a  little  tact." 

Doane  walked  back  along  the  deck  to  cabin  six- 
teen. A  fresh  breeze  blew  sharply  here;  the  chairs 
had  all  been  moved  across  to  the  other  side  where 
the  sunlight  lay  warm  on  the  planking.  Within 
the  social  hall  the  second  engineer — a  wistful,  shy 
young  Scot — had  brought  his  battered  talking  machine 
to  the  dining  table  and  was  grinding  out  a  comic  song. 
Two  or  three  of  the  men  were  in  there,  listening, 
smoking,  and  sipping  highballs ;  Doane  saw  them  as  he 
passed  the  door.  Through  the  open  but  shuttered 
window  of  cabin  number  twelve  came  the  clicking  of  a 
typewriter  and  men's  voices ;  that  would  be  Mr.  Kane, 
discussing  his  "autobiography"  with  its  author. 

Before  number  sixteen,  Doane  paused;  sniffed  the 
air.  A  curious  odor  was  floating  out  through  these 
shutters,  an  odor  that  he  knew.  He  sniffed  again; 
then  abruptly  knocked  at  the  door. 

A  drowsy  voice  answered:  "What  is  it?  What  do 
you  want?" 

"I  must  see  you  at  once,"  said  Doane. 

There  was  a  silence;  then  odd  sounds — a  faint 
rattling  of  glass,  a  scraping,  cupboard  doors  opening 


BETWEEN  THE  WORLDS  39 

and  closing1.  Finally  the  door  opened  a  few  inches. 
There  was  Rocky  Kane,  hair  tousled,  coat,  collar  and 
tie  removed,  and  shirt  open  at  the  neck.  Doane  looked 
sharply  at  his  eyes;  the  pupils  were  abnormally  small. 
And  the  odor  was  stronger  now  and  of  a  slightly 
choking  tendency. 

"What  are  you  looking  at  me  like  that  for?"  cried 
young  Kane,  shrinking  back  a  little  way. 

"I  think,"  said  Doane,  "you  had  better  let  me 
come  in  and  talk  with  you." 

"What  right  have  you  got  saying  things  like  that? 
What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  have  really  said  nothing  as  yet." 

Kane,  seeming  bewildered,  allowed  the  door  to 
swing  inward  and  himself  stepped  back.  The  big  mate 
came  stooping  within. 

"Your  note  has  been  returned,"  he  said  shortly; 
and  gave  him  the  paper. 

Kane  accepted  it,  stared  down  at  it,  then  sank 
back  on  the  couch. 

"What's  this  to  you !"  he  managed  to  cry.  "What 
right. . .  .what  do  you  mean,  saying  I  wrote  this?" 

"Because  you  did.  You  sent  it  back  by  the  little 
girl." 

"Well,  what  if  I  did !    What  right—" 

"I  am  here  at  the  request  of  his  excellency,  the 
viceroy  of  Nanking.  You  have  been  annoying  his 
daughter.  The  fact  that  she  chooses,  while  in  her 
father's  household,  to  wear  the  Manchu  dress,  does  not 
justify  you  in  treating  her  otherwise  than  as  a  lady. 


40  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

Perhaps  I  can't  expect  you  to  understand  that  his 
exellency  is  one  of  the  greatest  statesmen  alive  to-day. 
Nor  that  this  young  lady  was  educated  in  America, 
knows  the  capitals  of  Europe  better,  doubtless,  than 
yourself,  and  is  a  princess  by  birth.  She  went  to  school 
in  England  and  to  college  in  Massachusetts.  Take  my 
advice,  and  try  no  more  of  this  sort  of  thing." 

The  boy  was  staring  at  him  now,  wholly  bewil- 
dered. "Well,"  he  began  stumblingly,  "perhaps  I  have 
been  a  little  on  the  loose.  But  what  of  it!  A  fellow 
has  to  have  some  fun,  doesn't  he?" 

The  mate's  eyes  were  taking  in  keenly  the  crowded 
little  room. 

"Well,"  cried  Kane  petulantly,  "that's  all,  isn't  it? 
I  understand !  I'll  let  her  alone !" 

"You  don't  feel  that  an  apology  might  be  due?" 

"Apologize?     To  that  girl?" 

"To  her  father." 

"Apologize — to  a  Chink?" 

The  word  grated  strangely  on  Doane's  nerves. 

Suddenly  the  boy  cried  out:  "Well — that's  all? 
There's  nothing  more  you  want  to  say?  What  are 
you — what  are  you  looking  like  that  for?" 

The  sober  deep-set  eyes  of  the  mate  were  resting 
on  the  high  dresser  at  the  head  of  the  berths.  There, 
tucked  away  behind  the  water  caraffe,  was  a  small 
lamp  with  a  base  of  cloisonne  work  in  blue  and  gold 
and  a  small,  half  globular  chimney  of  soot-blackened 
glass. 

"What  are  you  looking  at  ?    What  do  you  mean  ?" 


BETWEEN  THE  WORLDS  41 

The  boy  writhed  under  the  steady  gaze  of  this 
huge  man,  who  rested  a  big  hand  on  the  upper  berth 
and  gazed  gravely  down  at  him;  writhed,  tossed  out 
a  protesting  arm,  got  to  his  feet  and  stood  with  a  weak 
effort  at  defiance. 

"Now  I  suppose  you'll  go  to  my  father!"  he  cried. 
"Well,  go  ahead !  Do  it !  I  don't  care.  I'm  of  age — • 
my  money's  my  own.  He  can't  hurt  me.  And  he 
knows  I'm  on  to  him.  Don't  think  I  don't  know  some 
of  the  things  he's  done — he  and  his  crowd.  Ah,  we're 
not  saints,  we  Kanes!  We're  good  fellows — we've 
got  pep,  we  succeed — but  we're  not  saints." 

"How  long  have  you  been  smoking  opium  ?"  asked 
the  mate. 

"I  don't  smoke  it!  I  mean  I  never  did.  Not  until 
Shanghai.  And  you  needn't  think  the  pater  hasn't 
hit  the  pipe  a  bit  himself.  I  never  saw  a  lamp  until 
he  took  me  to  the  big  Hong  dinner  at  Shanghai  last 
month.  They  had  'em  there.  And  it  wasn't  all  they 
had,  either." 

"If  you  are  telling  me  the  truth,"  said  the  mate — 

"I  am.    I  tell  you  I  am." 

" — Then  you  should  have  no  difficulty  in  stopping. 
It  would  take  a  few  weeks  to  form  the  habit.  You 
can't  smoke  another  pipe  on  this  boat." 

"But  what  right — good  lord,  if  the  pater  would 
drag  me  out  here,  away  from  all  my  friends ....  you 
think  I'm  a  rotter,  don't  you !" 

"My  opinion  is  not  m  question.  I  must  ask  you 
to  give  me,  now,  whatever  opium  you  have." 


42  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

Slowly,  moodily,  evidently  dwelling  in  a  confusion 
of  sulky  resentful  thoughts,  the  boy  knelt  at  the  cup* 
board  and  got  out  a  small  card-board  box. 

The  mate  opened  it,  and  found  several  shells  of 
opium  within.  He  promptly  pitched  it  out  over  the 
rail. 

"This  is  all?'*  he  asked. 

"Well — look  in  there  yourself!" 

But  the  mate  was  looking  at  the  suit-case,  and  at 
the  trunk  beneath  the  lower  berth. 

"You  give  me  your  word  that  you  have  no  more  ?" 

"That's— all,"  said  the  boy. 

The  mate  considered  this  answer ;  decided  to  accept 
it;  turned  to  go.  But  the  boy  caught  at  his  sleeve. 

"You  do  think  I'm  a  rotter!"  he  cried.  "Well, 
maybe  I  am.  Maybe  I'm  spoiled.  But  what's  a  fel- 
low to  do?  My  father's  a  machine — that's  what  he  is 
— a  ruthless  machine.  My  mother  divorced  him  ten 
years  ago.  She  married  that  English  captain — got 
the  money  out  of  father  for  them  to  live  on,  and  now 
she's  divorced  him.  Where  do  I  get  off?  I  know 
Fm  overstrung,  nervous.  I've  always  had  everything 
I  want.  Do  you  wonder  that  I've  begun  to  look  for 
something  new?  Perhaps  I'm  going  to  hell.  I  know 
you  think  so.  I  can  see  it  in  your  eyes.  But  who 
cares !" 

Doane  stood  a  long  time  at  the  rail,  thinking. 
The  ship's  clock  in  the  social  hall  struck  eight  bells. 
Faintly  his  outer  ear  caught  it  It  was  time  to  join 
his  excellency. 


CHAPTER  III 

MISS  HUI  FEI 

"T^HE  luncheon  table  of  his  excellency  was  simply 
set,  with  two  chairs  of  carven  blackwood,  behind 
a  high  painted  screen  of  six  panels.  It  was  at  this 
screen  that  the  first  mate  (left  by  a  smiling  attendant) 
gazed  with  a  frown  of  incredulity.  Cap  in  hand,  he 
stepped  back  and  studied  the  painting,  a  landscape 
representing  a  range  of  mountains  rising  above  mist 
in  great  rock-masses,  chasms  where  tortured  trees 
clung,  towering,  jagged  peaks,  all  partly  obscured  by 
the  softly  luminous  vapor — a  scene  of  power  and 
beauty.  Much  of  the  brighter  color  had  faded  into 
the  prevailing  tones  of  old  ivory  yellow  shading  into 
something  near  Rembrandt  brown ;  though  the  original 
reds  and  blues  still  held  vividly  in  the  lower  right 
foreground,  where  were  pictured  very  small,  exquisite 
in  detail  yet  of  as  trifling  importance  in  the  majestic 
scheme  of  the  painting  as  are  man  and  his  works  in 
all  sober  Chinese  thought  when  considered  in  relation 
to  the  grim  majesty  of  nature,  a  little  friendly  cluster 
of  houses,  men  at  work,  children  at  play,  domestic 
animals,  a  stream  with  a  water  buffalo,  a  bridge,  a 
wayfarer  riding  a  donkey,  and  cultivated  fields.  The 

43 


44  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

ideographic  signature  was  in  rich  old  gold,  inscribed 
with  unerring  decorative  instinct  on  a  flat  rock 
surface. 

The  mate  bent  low  and  looked  closely  at  the  brush- 
work  ;  then  stepped  around  an  end  panel  and  examined 
the  texture  of  the  silk. 

"Ah!" — it  was  a  musical  deep  voice,  speaking  in 
the  mandarin  tongue — "you  admire  my  screen, 
Griggsby  Doane."  The  name  was  pronounced  in 
English. 

His  excellency  wore  a  short  jacket  of  pale  yellow 
over  a  skirt  of  blue,  both  embroidered  in  large  circles 
of  lotus  flowers  around  centers  of  conventional  good- 
fortune  designs,  in  which  the  swastika  was  a  leading 
motive.  His  bared  head  was  shaved  only  at  the  sides, 
as  the  top  had  long  been  bald.  He  looked  gentle  and 
kind  as  he  stood  leaning  on  hi?  cane  and  extending  a 
wrinkled  hand;  smiling  in  the  fashion  of  forthright 
friendship.  The  thin  little  gray  beard,  the  unobtru- 
sively courteous  eyes,  the  calm  manner,  all  gave  him 
an  appearance  of  simplicity  that  made  it  momentarily 
difficult  to  think  of  him  as  the  great  negotiator  of  the 
tangled  problems  of  statesmanship  involved  in  the 
expansion  of  Japan,  the  man  who  very  nearly  con- 
vinced Europe  of  American  good  faith  during  the 
agitated  discussion  and  correspondence  that  arose  out 
of  the  "Open  Door"  proposals  of  John  Hay,  a  man 
known  among  the  observant  and  informed  in  London, 
Paris  and  Washington  as  a  great  statesman  and  a 
greater  gentleman. 


MISS  HUI  FEI  45 

"I  thought  at  first" — thus  the  mate,  touched  by 
the  fine  honor  done  him  (an  honor  that  would,  he 
quickly  felt,  demand  tact  on  the  bridge) — "that  it  was 
a  genuine  Kuo  Hsi." 

"No.    A  copy." 

"So  I  see.  A  Ming  copy — at  least  the  silk  appears 
to  be  Ming — the  heavy  single  strand,  closely  woven. 
And  the  seals  date  very  closely.  If  it  were  woven  of 
double  strands,  even  in  the  warp  alone,  I  should  not 
hesitate  to  call  it  a  genuine  Northern  Sung." 

"You  observe  closely,  Griggsby  Doane.  It  is  sup- 
posed that  Ch'uan  Shih  made  this  copy."  His  smile 
was  now  less  one  of  kindness  and  courtesy  than  of 
genuine  pleasure.  "You  shall  see  the  original." 

"You  have  that  also,  Your  Excellency?" 

"In  my  home  at  Huang  Chau." 

"I  have  never  seen  a  genuine  painting  of  Kuo 
Hsi.  It  would  be  a  great  privilege.  I  have  read  some 
of  the  sayings  attributed  to  him,  as  taken  down  by 
his  son.  One  I  recall — 'If  the  artist,  without  realizing 
his  ideal,  paints  landscapes  with  a  careless  heart,  it  is 
like  throwing  earth  upon  a  deity,  or  casting  impurities 
into  the  clean  wind.' ' 

"Yes,"  added  his  excellency,  almost  eagerly,  "and 
this — 'To  have  in  landscape  the  opportunity  of  seeing 
water  and  peaks,  of  hearing  the  cry  of  monkeys  and 
the  song  of  birds,  without  going  from  the  room.' ' 

Servants  appeared  bearing  covered  dishes.  His 
excellency  placed  the  mate  in  the  seat  commanding  the 
wider  view  of  the  river.  A  clear  broth  was  served, 


46  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

followed  by  stewed  shell  fish  with  cassia  mushrooms, 
steamed  sharks'  fins  served  with  crabmeat  and  ham, 
roast  duck  stuffed  with  young-  pine  needles,  and 
preserved  pomegranates,  carambolas  and  plums,  fol- 
lowed by  small  cups  of  rice  wine. 


The  conversation  lingered  with  the  great  Sung 
painters,  passing  naturally  then  to  the  conflict  during 
the  eleventh  and  twelfth  centuries  between  the  free 
vitality  of  Buddhist  thought  and  the  deadening  for- 
malism of  the  Confucian  tradition. 

And  Doane's  thoughts,  as  he  listened  or  quietly 
spoke,  dwelt  on  the  attainments  and  character  of  this 
great  man  who  was  so  simple  and  so  friendly  ^  His 
excellency  had  spoken  his  own  full  name,  Griggsby 
Doane,  which  would  mean  that  the  wide-reaching, 
instantly  responsive  facilities  for  gathering  information 
that  may  be  set  at  work  by  the  glance  of  a  viceroy's 
eye  or  a  movement  of  his  jeweled  finger  had  been 
brought  into  play  within  the  twenty-four  hours. 

"My  heart  is  there  in  the  Sung  Dynasty,"  his  excel- 
lency said.  "I  never  look  upon  the  old  canals  of  Hang 
Chow  or  the  ruins  of  stone-walled  lotus  gardens  by 
the  Si-hu  without  sadness.  And  Kai-feng-fu  to-day, 
wrings  my  heart." 

"Truly,"  mused  Doane,  "it  was  in  the  days  of 
Tang  and  Sung  that  the  soul  of  China  so  nearly  found 
its  freedom." 

"You  indeed  understand,  Griggsby  Doane!"     The 


MISS  HUI  FEI  47 

two  English  words  stood  out  with  odd  emphasis  in 
the  musical  flow  of  cultured  Chinese  speech.  "Had 
that  spirit  endured,  China  would  to-day,  I  like  to 
think,  have  Korea  and  Manchuria  and  Mongolia  and 
Sin  Kiang.  China  would  not  to-day  wear  a  piteous 
smile  on  the  lips,  turning  the  head  to  hide  tears  of 
shame,  while  the  Russians  absorb  our  northern  fron- 
tiers and  the  French  draw  tribute  from  Annam  and 
Yunnan,  while  the  English  control  this  great  valley 
of  the  Yangtze,  while  the  Germans  drive  their  mailed 
fist  into  Shantung,  and  the  Japanese  send  their  spies 
throughout  all  our  land  and  stand  insolently  at  the 
very  gate  of  the  Forbidden  City.  I  could  not,  perhaps, 
speak  my  heart  freely  to  one  of  my  own  countrymen, 
but  to  you  I  can  say,  Confucian  scholar  though  they 
may  term  me,  that  since  what  you  call  the  thirteenth 
century  there  has  been  a  gradual  paralysis  of  the 

will  in  China,  a  softening  of  the  political  brain 

You  will  permit  an  old  man  this  latitude?  I  have 
served  China  without  thought  of  self  during  nearly 
fifty  years.  To  the  Old  Buddha  I  was  ever  a  loyal 
servant.  If  toward  the  new  emperor  and  the  empress 
dowager  I  find  it  impossible  to  feel  so  deeply,  my 
heart  is  yet  devoted  to  the  throne  and  to  my  people. 
If  while  sent  abroad  in  service  of  my  country  it  has 
been  given  me  to  see  much  of  merit  in  Western  ways, 
it  is  not  that  I  have  become  a  revolutionist,  a  traitor 
to  the  government  of  my  ancestors." 

There  was  a  light  in  the  kindly  eyes;  a  strong  ring 
in  the  deep  voice.    He  went  on : 


48  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

"No,  I  am  not  a  traitor.  It  is  not  that.  It  is  that 
my  country  has  suffered,  is  now  prostrate,  with  a  long 
sickness.  She  must  be  helped;  but  she  must  as  well 
help  herself.  She  is  like  one  who  has  lain  too  long 
abed.  She  must  think,  arise,  act.  With  my  poor  eyes 
I  can  see  no  other  hope  for  her.  Even  though  I  myself 
may  suffer,  I  can  not,  in  truth  to  my  own  faith,  punish 
those  who,  loving  China  as  deeply  as  I  myself  love 
her,  yet  feel  that  they  must  goad  her  until  she  awakens 
from  her  pitiful  sleep  of  more  than  six  centuries. . . . 
Nor  am  I  a  republican.  China  is  not  like  your  country. 
In  an  imperial  throne  I  must  believe.  Yet,  she  must 
listen  to  all,  study  all,  draw  from  all.  Freedom  of 
thought  there  must  be.  We  must  not  longer  worship 
books  and  the  dead.  We  must  learn  to  look  about  us 
and  on  before." 

Their  chairs  were  drawn  about  to  the  windows. 
Slowly  the  wide  river  slipped  off  astern. 

"But  you,  Griggsby  Doane,  why  are  you  here? 
This  is  not  the  life  for  which  you  so  laboriously  and 
so  worthily  prepared  yourself.  I  knew  of  you  over  in 
T'ainan-fu.  You  were  a  true  servant  of  your  faith. 
After  the  dreadful  year  of  the  Boxers  you  returned 
to  your  task.  And  during  the  trouble  in  nineteen 
hundred  and  seven,  the  fighting  with  the  Great  Eye 
Society  in  Hansi,  you  conducted  yourself  with  brav- 
ery. I  was  at  Sian-fu  that  year,  and  was  well 
informed.  Yet  you  gave  up  the  church  mission." 

The  mate's  eyes  were  fixed  gloomily  on  the  long 
vista  of  the  river.  For  a  moment  it  seemed  as  if  he 


MISS  HUI  FEI  49 

would  speak;  and  the  viceroy,  seeing-  his  lips  part, 
leaned  a  little  way  forward;  but  then  the  lips  were 
closed  tightly  and  the  great  head  bent  deliberately 
fonvard. 

"I  knew,"  continued  his  excellency,  "when  the 
Asiatic  Company  of  New  York  was  negotiating  with 
me  the  contract  for  rebuilding  the  banks  of  the 
Grand  Canal  in  Kiang-su  that  you  had  gone  from 
T'ainan,  and  that  you  had,  as  well,  left  the  church. 
You  had  even  gone  from  China." 

"That  was  in  nineteen  nine,"  said  Doane,  in  the 
somber  voice  of  one  who  thinks  moodily  aloud.  "I 
was  in  America  then." 

"Yes,  it  was  in  your  year  nineteen  nine.  For  a 
time  those  negotiations  hung,  I  recall,  on  the  ques- 
tion of  the  means  to  be  employed  in  dealing  with  local 
resentments.  The  trouble  over  the  Ho  Shan  Company 
in  Hansi,  of  which  you  knew  so  much  and  which  you 
met  with  such  noble  courage,  had  taught  us  all  to 
move  with  caution." 

"My  position  in  that  Hansi  trouble  has  not  been 
clearly  understood,  Your  Excellency.  I  was  there  only, 
a  short  time,  and  was  ill  at  that." 

The  viceroy  smiled,  kindly,  wisely.  "You  went 
alone  and  on  foot  from  T'ainan-fu  to  So  T'ung  in  the 
face  of  a  Looker  attack,  and  yourself  settled  that 
tragic  business.  You  then  walked,  without  even  a 
night's  rest,  the  fifty-five  li  from  T'ainan  to  Hung 
Chan.  There,  at  the  city  gate,  you  were  attacked  and 
severely  wounded,  and  crawled  to  the  house  of  a  Chris- 


50  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

tian  native.  But  while  still  weak  and  in  a  fever  you 
walked  the  three  hundred  li  to  Ping  Yang-  and  made 
your  way  through  the  Looker  army  into  Monsieur 
Pourmont's  compound . . . . " 

He  pronounced  the  two  words  "Monsieur  Pour- 
mont"  in  French.  What  a  remarkable  old  man  he 
was — mentally  all  alive,  sensitive  as  a  youth  to  the 
quick  currents  of  life!  The  accuracy  of  his  informa- 
tion, like  his  memory,  was  surprising.  Though  to 
the  Westerner,  every  normal  Chinese  memory  is  that. 
Merely  learning  the  language  needs  or  builds  a  mem- 
ory  Most  surprising  was  that  so  deep  attention 

had  been  given  to  Doane's  own  small  case.  The  fact 
bewildered;  was  slow  in  coming  home.  For  Kang 
was  a  great  man;  his  proper  preoccupations  were 
many ;  that  he  was  a  poet,  and  had  early  aspired  to  the 
laureateship,  was  commonly  known — indeed,  Doane 
had  somewhere  his  own  translation  of  Ranges  Ode  to 
the  Rich  Earth,  from  the  scroll  in  the  author's  calli- 
graphy owned  by  Pao  Ting  Chuan  at  T'ainan-fu.  As 
an  amateur  in  the  art  of  his  own  land  of  fine  taste 
and  sound  historical  background  he  was  known 
everywhere;  his  collection  of  early  paintings,  por- 
celains, jades  and  jewels  being  admittedly  one  of  the 
most  valuable  remaining  in  China.  And  he  was 
reputed  to  be  the  richest  individual  not  of  the  royal 
blood  (excepting  perhaps  Yuan  Shi  K'ai). 

A  contrast,  not  untinged  with  a  passing  bitterness, 
arose  in  Doane's  mind.  Here  before  him  quietly  sat 
this  so-called  yellow  man  who  was  more  competent 


MISS  HUI  FEI  51 

than  perhaps  any  other  to  select  his  own  art  treasures 
and  write  his  own  poems  and  state  papers;  whose 
journals,  known  to  exist,  must  inevitably,  if  not  lost 
in  a  war-torn  land,  take  their  place  as  a  part  of  China's 
history;  a  man  who  was  at  once  manufacturer, 
financier,  and  statesman,  on  whom  for  a  decade  a 
weakening  throne  had  leaned.  While  in  the  cabin  for- 
ward was  a  great  white  man  as  truly  representative  of 
the  new  civilization  as  was  Kang  of  the  old ;  yet  who 
hired  men  of  special  knowledge  to  select  the  art  treas- 
ures that  would  be  left,  one  day,  in  his  name  and  as  a 
monument  to  his  culture,  who  even  employed  a  trained 
writer  to  pen  the  work  that  he  proposed  unblushingly 
to  call  his  "autobiography."  For  such  a  man  as 
Dawley  Kane,  whatever  his  manners,  Doane  felt  now, 
knew  only  the  power  of  money.  Through  that  alone 
his  genius  functioned;  the  rest  was  a  lie.  On  the  one 
hand  was  culture,  on  the  other — something  else.  The 
thought  bit  into  his  brain. 

But  his  excellency  had  not  finished: 

"And  there,  my  dear  Griggsby  Doane,  while  still 
suffering  from  your  wound,  you  learned  that  those  in 
Monsieur  Pourmont's  compound  were  cut  off  from 
communication  with  their  nationals  at  Peking.  You 
at  once  volunteered  to  go  again,  alone,  through  the 
Looker  lines  to  the  railhead  with  messages,  and  suc- 
cessfully did  so. ...  Do  you  wonder,  my  dear  young 
friend,  that  knowing  this,  and  more,  of  your  honesty 
and  personal  force  from  my  one-time  assistant,  Pao 
Ting  Chuan,  of  T'ainan-fu,  I  pressed  strongly  on  thq 


52  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

gentlemen  from  New  York  who  represented  the  Asiatic 
Company  my  desire  that  they  secure  you  to  act  as 
their  resident  director?  And  do  you  wonder  that  I 
regretted  your  refusal  so  to  act  ?" 


This  statement  came  to  Doane  as  a  surprise. 

"They  offered  me  a  position,  yes,"  he  saidt  pon- 
dering on  the  inexplicable  ways  in  which  the  currents 
of  life  meet  and  cross.  "But  they  told  me  nothing  of 
your  interest." 

His  excellency  smiled.  "It  might  have  raised  your 
price.  They  would  think  of  that.  The  sharpest  trad- 
ing, Griggsby  Doane,  is  not  done  in  the  Orient.  That 
I  have  learned  from  a  long  lifetime  of  struggling 
against  the  aggressions  of  white  nations.  During  the 
discussion  of  the  concerted  loan  to  China — you  recall 
it? — they  talked  of  lending  us  a  hundred  million  dol- 
lars, gold.  To  read  your  New  York  papers  was  to 
think  that  we  were  almost  to  be  given  the  money.  It 
seemed  really  a  philanthropy.  But  do  you  know  what 
their  left  hands  were  doing  while  their  right  hands 
waved  in  a  fine  gesture  of  aid  to  the  struggling  China  ? 
These  were  the  terms.  First  they  subtracted  a  large 
commission — that  for  the  bankers  themselves;  then, 
what  with  stipulations  of  various  sorts  as  to  the  uses 
to  which  the  money — or  the  credit — was  to  be  put, 
mostly  in  purchases  of  railway  and  war  material  from 
their  own  hongs  at  further  huge  profits  to  them- 


MISS  HUI  FEI  53 

selves,  they  whittled  it  down  until  the  actual  money  to 
be  expended  under  our  own  direction,  amounted  to 
about  fifteen  millions.  And  with  that  went  immense 
new  concessions — really  the  signing  away  of  an  em- 
pire— and  new  foreign  supervision  of  our  internal 
affairs.  For  all  these  privileges  we  were  to  pay  an 
annual  interest  and  later  repay  the  full  amount,  one 
hundred  millions.  It  was  quite  unbearable."  He 
sighed.  "But  what  is  poor  old  China  to  do  ?" 

Doane  nodded  gravely.  "I  felt  all  that — the  sort 
of  thing — when  I  talked  with  representatives  of  the 
Asiatic  Company.  Not  that  I  blamed  them,  of  course. 
It  is  a  point  of  view  much  larger  than  any  of  them; 
they  are  but  part  of  a  great  tendency.  I  couldn't  go 
into  it." 

"Why  not?"  The  viceroy's  keen  eyes  dropped  to 
the  slightly  faded  blue  uniform,  then  rested  again  on 
the  strong  face. 

"The  past  few  years — I  will  pass  over  the  details — 
have  been — well,  not  altogether  happy  for  me.  I  have 
been  puzzled.  All  the  rich  years  of  my  younger  man- 
hood were  given  to  the  mission  work.  But  I  had  to 
leave  the  church.  At  first  I  felt  a  joy  in  simple  hard 
work — I  am  very  strong — but  hard  work  alone  could 
not  satisfy  my  thoughts." 

"No....  No." 

"For  a  time  I  believed  that  the  solution  of  my 
personal  problem  lay  in  taking  the  plunge  into  com- 
mercial life.  I  had  come  to  feel,  out  there,  that  busi- 


54  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

ness  was,  after  all,  the  natural  expression  of  man's 
active  nature  in  our  time." 

"Yes.     Doubtless  it  is." 

"It  was  in  that  state  of  mind  that  I  returned  home 
— to  the  States.  But  it  proved  impossible.  I  am  not 
a  trader.  It  was  too  late.  My  character,  such  as  it 
was  and  is,  had  been  formed  and  hardened  in  another 
mold.  I  talked  with  old  friends,  but  only  to  discover 
that  we  had  between  us  no  common  tongue  of  the 
spirit.  Perhaps  if  I  had  entered  business  early,  as 
they  did,  I,  too,  would  have  found  my  early  ideals 
being  warped  gradually  around  to  the  prevailing 
point  of  view." 

"The  point  stands  out,  though,"  said  the  viceroy, 
"that  you  did  not  enter  business.  You  chose  a  more 
difficult  course,  and  one  which  leaves  you,  in  ripe 
middle  age,  without  the  means  to  direct  your  life 
effectively  and  in  comfort." 

"Yes,"  mused  Doane,  though  without  bitterness. 
"I  feel  that,  of  course.  And  it  is  hard,  very  hard,  to 
lose  one's  country.  Yet. ..." 

His  voice  dropped.  He  sat,  elbow  on  crossed 
knees,  staring  at  the  ever-changing  river.  When  he 
spoke  again,  the  bitter  undertone  was  no  longer  in  his 
voice.  He  was  gentler,  but  puzzled;  a  man  who  has 
suffered  a  loss  that  he  can  not  understand. 

"All  my  traditions,"  he  said,  "my  memories  of 
America,  were  of  simple  friendly  communities,  a  land 
of  earnest  religion,  of  political  freedom.  In  my 
thoughts  as  a  younger  man  certain  great  figures  stood 


MISS  HUI  FEI  55 

out — Washington,  Lincoln,  Charles  Sumner,  Wendell 
Philips,  Philips  Brooks  and — yes,  Henry  Ward 
Beecher.  I  had  deeply  felt  Emerson,  Longfellow, 
Lowell  and  Whittier.  The  Declaration  of  Independ- 
ence could  still  fire  my  blood.  And  it  was  such  a  land 
of  simple  faith  that  I  tried  for  so  many  years, 
however  ineffectually,  to  represent  here  in  China.  To 
be  sure,  disquieting  thoughts  came — church  disunity, 
the  spectacle  of  unbridled  license  among  so  many  of 
my  fellow  countrymen  in  the  coast  ports,  the  methods 
of  certain  of  our  great  corporations  in  pushing  their 
wares  in  among  your  people.  But  even  when  I  found 
it  necessary  to  leave  the  church,  I  still  believed  deeply 
in  my  country." 

He  paused  to  control  a  slight  Unsteadiness  of 
voice ;  then  went  on : 

"May  I  ask  if  you,  Your  Excellency,  after  your 
long  visits  in  Europe,  have  not  come  home  to  meet  with 
something  the  same  difficulty,  to  find  yourself  looking 
at  your  own  people  with  the  eyes  of  a  stranger,  receiv- 
ing such  an  impression  as  only  a  stranger  can  receive  ?" 

"Indeed,  yes!"  cried  the  viceroy  softly,  with  deep 
feeling.  "It  is  the  most  difficult  moment,  I  have 
sometimes  felt,  in  a  man's  life.  It  is  the  summit  of 
loneliness,  for  there  is  no  man  among  his  friends  who 
can  share  his  view,  and  there  is  none  who  would  not 
misunderstand  and  censure  him.  And  yet,  a  country, 
a  people,  like  a  city,  does  present  to  the  alien  eye,  a 
complete  impression,  it  exhibits  clearly  outlined  char- 
acteristics that  can  be  observed  in  no  other  way.  Even 


56  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

the  alien  loses  that  clear,  true  impression  on  very  short 
acquaintance.  He  then  becomes,  like  all  the  others,  a 
part  of  the  picture  he  has  once  seen." 

"It  is  so,  Your  Excellency.  My  country,  in  that 
first,  startled,  clear  glance,  affected  me — I  may  as  well 
use  the  word — unpleasantly.  It  was  utterly  different 
from  anything  I  had  known,  a  trader's  paradise,  a 
place  of  unbelievable  confusion,  of  an  activity  that 
bewildered,  rushing  to  what  end  I  could  not  under- 
stand." 

He  was  speaking  now  not  only  in  the  Chinese 
language  but  in  the  idiom  as  well,  generalizing  rhetor- 
ically as  the  Chinese  do.  It  was  almost  as  if  the  words 
came  from  a  Chinese  mind. 


They  were  silent  for  a  time.  Then  the  viceroy 
asked,  in  his  gently  abrupt  way:  "Why  did  you  leave 
the  church?" 

"Because  I  sinned." 

"Against  the  church?" 

"That,  and  my  own  faith." 

"Were  you  asked  to  leave ?" 

"No." 

"They  knew  of  your  sin?** 

"I  told  them," 

"Yet  they  would  have  kept  you?" 

"Yes.  My  own  feeling  was  that  my  superior 
temporized." 


MISS  HUI  FEI  57 

"He  knew  your  value." 

"I  can  not  say  as  to  that.  But  he  wished  me  to 
marry  again.  I  couldn't  do  that — not  in  the  spirit 
intended.  Not  as  I  felt." 

"We  are  different,  Griggsby  Doane,  you  and  I.  I 
am  a  Manchu,  you  an  American.  The  customs  of  our 
two  lands  are  very  different.  What  would  seem  a 
sin  to  you,  might  not  seem  so  to  me.  Yet  I,  too,  have 
a  conscience  to  which  I  must  answer.  I  believe  I 
understand  you.  It  is,  I  see,  because  of  your  con- 
science that  you  sit  before  me  now,  on  this  boat  and 
in  this  uniform,  a  man,  as  your  great  Edward  Everett 
Hale  has  phrased  it,  without  a  country." 

He  paused,  and  filled  again  the  little  pipe-bowl, 
studied  it  absently  as  his  wrinkled  fingers  worked  the 
tobacco.  His  nails  were  trimmed  short,  like  those  of 
a  white  man.  Doane  thought,  swiftly,  of  the  man's 
dramatic  past,  sent  out  as  he  had  been  to  become  a 
citizen  of  the  world  by  a  nation  that  would  in  very 
necessity  fail  to  understand  the  resulting  changes  in 
his  outlook.  There  was  his  daughter;  she  would  be 
almost  an  American,  after  four  years  of  college  life. 
And  she,  now,  would  be  a  problem  indeed!  What 
could  he  hope  to  make  of  her  life  in  this  Asia  where 
woman,  like  labor  in  his  own  country,  was  a  com- 
modity. It  would  be  absorbingly  interesting,  were  it 
possible,  to  peep  into  that  smooth-running  old  brain 
and  glimpse  the  problems  there.  They  were  gossiping 
about  him.  His  stately  figure  was  to-day  the  center 
about  which  coiled  the  life  and  death  intrigue  of 


58  IN  RED  'AND  GOLD 

Chinese  officialdom  and  over  which  hung  suspended 
the  silken  power  of  an  Oriental  throne ....  Doane's 
personal  problem  shrank  into  nothing — a  flitting  mem- 
ory of  a  little  outbreak  of  egotism — as  he  studied  the 
old  face  on  which  the  revealing  hand  of  Age  had 
inscribed  wisdom,  kindliness  and  shrewdness. 

Soft  footfalls  sounded;  then,  after  a  moment,  a 
sharper  sound  that  Doane  assumed^  with  a  slight 
quickening  of  the  imagination,  to  be  the  high  wooden 
clogs  of  a  Manchu  lady,  until  he  realized  that  no 
clogs  could  move  so  lightly;  no,  these  were  little 
.Western  shoes. 

A  young  woman  appeared,  slender  and  comely, 
dressed  in  a  tailored  suit  that  could  have  come  only 
from  New  York,  and  smiling  with  shy  eagerness.  She 
was  of  good  height  (like  the  Manchus  of  the  old 
stock),  the  face  nearly  oval,  quite  unpainted  and  softly 
pretty,  with  a  broad  forehead  that  curved  prettily  back 
under  the  parted  hair,  arched  eyebrows,  eyes  more 
nearly  straight  than  slanting  (that  opened  a  thought 
less  widely  than  those  of  Western  people),  and  with 
a  quaint,  wholly  charming  friendliness  in  her  smile. 

He  felt  her  sense  of  freedom;  and  knew  as  she 
tried  to  take  his  huge  hand  in  her  own  small  one  that 
she  carried  her  Western  ways,  as  her  own  people 
would  phrase  it,  with  a  proud  heart.  She  was  of  those 
aliens  who  would  be  happily  American,  eager  to  show 
ther  kinship  with  the  great  land  of  fine  free  traditions. 

And  holding  the  small  hand,  looking  down  at  her, 
[Doane  found  his  perhaps  overstrained  nerves  respond- 


MISS  HUI  FEI  59 

ing  warmly  to  her  fine  youth  and  health.  He  reflected, 
in  that  swift  way  of  his  wide-ranging  mind,  on  the 
amazing  change  in  Chinese  official  life  that  made  it 
even  remotely  possible  for  the  viceroy  to  present  his 
daughter  with  a  heart  as  proud  as  hers.  The  change 
had  come  about  during  the  term  of  Doane's  own  resi- 
dence ....  America,  then,  was  not  alone  in  changing. 
It  was  a  shaking,  puzzled  and  puzzling  world. 

"This,"  his  excellency  was  saying,  "is  my  daugh- 
ter, Hui  Fei." 

"I  am  very  pleas'  to  meet  you,"  said  Hui  Fei. 

They  sat  then.  The  girl  became  at  once,  as  in 
America,  the  center  of  the  talk.  Though  of  the  heed- 
lessness  not  uncommonly  found  among  American  girls 
she  had  none.  She  was  prettily,  sensitively,  deferential 
to  her  father.  Somewhere  back  of  the  bright  surface 
brain  from  which  came  the  quick  eager  talk  and  the 
friendly  smile,  deep  in  her  nature,  lay  the  sense  of 
reverence  for  those  riper  in  years  and  in  authority 
that  was  the  deepest  strain  in  her  race.  She  dwelt  on 
things  almost  utterly  American:  the  brightness  of 
New  York — she  said  she  liked  it  best  in  October,  when 
the  shops  were  gay;  the  approaching  Yale-Harvard 
football  game,  a  motoring  tour  through  the  White 
Mountains,  happy  summers  at  the  seashore. 

Doane  watched  her,  speaking  only  at  intervals, 
wondering  if  there  might  not  be,  behind  her  gentle 
enthusiasm,  some  deeper  understanding  of  her  present 
situation.  He  could  not  surely  make  out  She  had 
humor,  and  when  he  asked  if  it  did  not  seem  strange 


60  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

to  step  abruptly  back  into  the  old  life,  she  spoke 
laughingly  of  her  many  little  mistakes  in  etiquette. 
Her  English  he  found  charming.  She  was  continually 
slipping"  back  into  it  from  the  Mandarin  tongue  she 
tried  to  use,  and  as  continually,  with  great  gaiety, 
reaching  back  into  Chinese  for  the  equivalent  phrase. 
She  had  so  nearly  conquered  the  usual  difficulty  with 
the  I's  and  r's  as  to  confuse  them  only  when  she  spoke 
hurriedly.  At  these  times,  too,  she  would  leave  off 
final  consonants.  The  long  e  became  then,  a  short  t. 
Doane  even  smiled,  with  an  inner  sense  of  pleasure,  at 
her  pretty  emphasis  when  she  once  converted  people 
into  pipple.  She  was,  unmistakably,  a  young  woman 
of  charm  and  personality.  Despite  the  quaintness  of 
her  speech,  she  was  accustomed  to  thinking  in  the  new 
tongue.  Her  command  of  it  was  excellent ;  better  than 
would  commonly  be  found  in  America.  All  of  which, 
of  course,  intensified  the  problem. 

His  excellency  sat  back,  smoked  comfortably,  and 
looked  on  her  with  frankly  indulgent  pride. 

A  servant  came  with  a  message ;  bowing  low.  The 
viceroy  excused  himself,  leaving  his  daughter  and 
Doane  together.  Doane  asked  himself,  during  the 
pause  that  followed  his  departure,  what  the  observant 
attendants  beyond  the  screen  would  be  thinking.  The 
situation,  from  any  familiar  Chinese  point  of  view,  was 
unthinkable.  Yet  here  he  sat;  and  there,  her  brows 
drawn  together  (he  saw  now)  in  sober  thought,  sat 
delightful  Miss  Hui  Fei. 

She  said,  in  a  low  voice,  while  looking  out  at  the 


MISS  HUI  FEI  61 

river :  "Mr.  Doane,  no  matter  what  you  may  think — 
I  mus'  see  you.  This  evening.  You  mus'  tell  me 
where.  It  mus'  not  be  known  to  any  one.  There  are 
spies  here." 

Doane  glanced  up;  then,  too,  looked  away.  There 
could  be  no  question  now  of  the  girl's  deeper  feeling. 
She  was  determined.  Her  tone  was  honest  and  forth- 
right, with  the  unthinking  courage  of  youth.  It  would 
be  her  father,  of  course. ... 

But  his  mind  had  gone  blank.  He  knew  not  what 
to  think  or  say. 

"Please!"  she  murmured.  "There  is  no  one  else. 
You  mus'  help  us.  Tell  me — father  will  be  coming 
back." 

And  then  Griggsby  Doane  heard  his  own  voice 
saying  quietly :  "The  boat  deck  is  the  only  place.  You 
will  find  a  sort  of  ladder  near  the  stern.  If  you  can — " 

"I  will  go  up  there." 

"It  will  be  only  just  after  midnight  that  I  could 
arrange  to  be  there." 

His  excellency  returned  then.  And  Doane  took 
his  leave.  He  had  been  but  a  few  moments  in  his  own 
cabin  when  two  lictors  of  his  excellency's  suite 
appeared,  each  with  a  lacquered  tray,  on  one  of  which 
was  a  small  chest  of  tea,  wrapped  in  red  paper  lettered 
in  gold  and  bearing  the  seal  stamp  of  the  private  estate 
of  Kang  Yu,  on  the  other  an  object  of  more  than  a 
foot  in  height  carefully  wound  about  with  cotton  cloth. 

Doane  dismissed  the  lictors  with  a  Mexican  dollar 
each  and  unwrapped  the  larger  object,  which  the  ser- 


62  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

vant  had  placed  with  great  care  on  his  berth.  It 
proved  to  be  a  pi,  a  disk  of  carven  jade,  in  color  a 
perfect  specimen  of  the  pure  greenish-white  tint  that 
is  so  highly  prized  by  Chinese  collectors.  The  diame- 
ter was  hardly  less  than  ten  inches,  and  the  actual 
width  of  the  stone  from  the  circular  inner  opening  to 
the  outer  rim  about  four  inches.  It  stood  on  edge  set 
in  a  pedestal  of  blackwood,  the  carving  of  which  was 
of  unusual  delicacy.  The  pedestal  was,  naturally, 
modern,  but  Doane,  with  a  mounting  pulse,  studied  the 
designs  cut  into  the  stone  itself.  That  cutting  had 
been  done  not  later  than  the  Han  Dynasty,  certainly 
within  two  hundred  years  of  the  birth  of  Christ. 


CHAPTER  IV 

INTRIGUE 

•"PHE  Yen  Hsm  would  arrive  at  Kiu  Kiang  by  mid- 
afternoon.  Half  an  hour  earlier,  Doane,  on  the 
lower  deck,  came  upon  a  group  of  his  excellency's  sol- 
diers— brown  deep-chested  men,  picturesque  in  their 
loose  blue  trousers  bound  in  above  the  ankles  and  their 
blue  turbans  and  gray  cartridge  belts — conversing 
excitedly  in  whispers  behind  the  stack  of  coffins  near 
the  stern.  At  sight  of  him  they  broke  up  and  slipped 
away. 

A  moment  later,  passing  forward  along  the  corri- 
dor beside  the  engine  room,  he  heard  his  name:  "Mr. 
Doane!  If  you  please!"  This  in  English. 

He  turned.  Just  within  the  doorway  of  one  of  the 
low-priced  cabins  stood  a  pedler  he  had  observed  about 
the  lower  decks ;  a  thin  Chinese  with  an  overbred  head 
that  was  shaped,  beneath  the  cap,  like  a  skull  without 
flesh  upon  it;  the  eyes  concealed  behind  smoked 
glasses. 

"May  I  have  a  word  with  you,  Mr.  Doane?" 

The  mate  considered;  then,  stooping,  entered  the 
tiny  cabin.  The  pedler  closed  the  door;  quietly  shot 

63 


64  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

the  bolt ;  then  removed  his  cap  and  the  queue  with  it, 
exposing  a  full  head  of  stubbly  black  hair,  trimmed, 
as  is  said,  pompadour.  The  glasses  came  off  next; 
discovering  wide  alert  eyes.  And  now,  without  the 
cap,  the  head,  despite  the  hair  and  the  seriously  intel- 
lectual face,  looked,  balanced  on  its  thin  neck,  more 
than  ever  like  a  skull. 

"You  will  not  know  of  me,  Mr.  Doane.  I  am  Sun 
Shi-pi  of  Shanghai.  I  was  attached,  as  interpreter,  to 
the  yamen  of  the  tao-tai.  I  left  his  service  some 
months  ago  to  join  the  republican  revolutionary  party. 
I  was  arrested  shortly  after  that  at  Nanking  and  con- 
demned to  death,  but  his  excellency,  the  viceroy — " 

"Kang?" 

"Yes.  He  is  on  this  boat.  He  released  me  on  con- 
dition that  I  go  to  Japan.  I  kept  my  word — to  that 
extent;  I  went  to  Japan — but  I  could  not  keep  my 
word  in  spirit.  My  life  is  consecrated  to  the  cause  of 
the  Chinese  Republic.  Nothing  else  matters.  I 
returned  to  Shanghai,  and  was  made  commander 
there  of  the  'Dare-to-dies.'  You  did  not  know  of 
such  an  organization?  You  will,  then,  before  the 
winter  is  gone.  We  shall  be  heard  from.  There  are 
other  such  companies — at  Canton,  at  Wuchang — at 
Nanking — at  every  center." 

Doane  seated  himself  on  the  narrow  couch  and 
studied  the  quietly  eager  young  man. 

"You  speak  English  with  remarkable  ease,"  he 
said. 


INTRIGUE  65 

"Oh,  yes.  I  studied  at  Chicago  University.  And 
at  Tokio  University  I  took  post-graduate  work." 

"And  you  are  frank." 

"I  can  trust  you.  You  are  known  to  us,  Mr. 
Doane.  Wu  Ting  Fang  trusts  you — and  Sun  Yat 
Sen,  our  leader,  he  knows  and  trusts  you." 

"I  did  know  Sun  Yat  Sen,  when  he  was  a  medical 
student." 

"He  knows  you  well.  He  has  mentioned  your 
name  to  us.  That  is  wrhy  I  am  speaking  to  you. 
America  is  with  us.  We  can  trust  Americans." 

Doane's  mind  was  ranging  swiftly  about  the  situa- 
tion. "You  are  running  a  risk,"  he  said. 

Sun  Shi-pi  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "I  shall 
hardly  survive  the  revolution.  That  is  not  expected 
among  the  'Dare-to-dies.' ' 

"If  his  excellency's  soldiers  find  you  here  they  will 
kill  you  now." 

"The  officers  would,  of  course.  Many  of  the  sol- 
diers are  with  us.  Anyway,  it  doesn't  matter." 

"What  is  your  errand?" 

"I  will  tell  you.  The  revolution,  as  you  doubtless 
know,  is  fully  planned." 

"I've  assumed  so.  There  has  been  so  much  talk. 
And  then,  of  course,  the  outbreak  in  Szechuen." 

"That  was  premature.  It  was  the  plan  to  strike 
in  the  spring.  This  fighting  in  Szechuen  has  caused 
much  confusion.  Sun  Yat  Sen  is  in  America.  He  is 
going  to  England,  and  can  hardly  reach  China  within 
two  months.  He  will  bring  money  enough  for  all  our 


66  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

needs.  He  is  the  organizer,  the  directing  genius  of 
the  new  republic.  But  the  Szechuen  outbreak  has  set 
all  the  young  hotheads  afire." 

"I  am  told  that  the  throne  has  sent  Tuan  Fang 
out  there  to  put  down  the  disturbance.  But  we  have 
had  no  news  lately." 

"That  is  because  the  wires  are  cut.  Tuan  Fang 
will  never  come  back.  We  will  pay  five  thousand 
taels,  cash,  to  the  bearer  of  his  head,  and  ask  no  ques- 
tions. We  must  exterminate  the  Manchus.  It  has 
finally  come  down  to  that.  It  is  the  only  way  out. 
But  we  must  pull  together.  Did  you  know  that  the 
Wu  Chang  republicans  plan  to  strike  at  once?" 

"No." 

"I  have  been  sent  there  to  tell  them  to  wait.  That 
is  our  gravest  danger  now.  If  we  pull  together  we 
shall  win.  If  our  emotions  run  away  with  our 
judgment — " 

"The  throne  will  defeat  your  forces  piecemeal  and 
destroy  your  morale." 

"Exactly.  My  one  fear  is  that  I  may  not  reach 
Wu  Chang  in  time.  But" — with  a  careless  gesture — 
"that  is  as  it  may  be.  I  will  tell  you  now  why  I 
spoke  to  you.  We  need  you.  Our  organization  is 
incomplete  as  yet,  naturally.  One  matter  of  the  great- 
est importance  is  that  our  spirit  be  understood  from 
the  first  by  foreign  countries.  There  is  an  enormous 
task — diplomatic  publicity,  you  might  call  it — which 
you,  Mr.  Doane,  are  peculiarly  fitted  to  undertake. 
You  know  both  China  and  the  West.  You  are  a  philos- 


INTRIGUE  67 

opher  of  mature  judgment.  You  would  work  in  asso- 
ciation with  Doctor  Wu  Ting  Fang  at  our  Shanghai 
offices.  There  will  be  money.  Will  you  consider 
this?" 

"It  is  a  wholly  new  thought,"  Doane  replied 
slowly.  "I  should  have  to  give  it  very  serious 
consideration." 

"But  you  are  in  sympathy  with  our  aims  ?" 

"In  a  general  way,  certainly.  Even  though  I  may 
not  share  your  optimism." 

"On  your  return  to  Shanghai,  would  you  be  willing 
to  call  at  once  on  Doctor  Wu  and  discuss  the  matter?" 

"Yes ....  Yes,  I  will  do  that.  I  must  leave  you 
now.  We  are  nearly  at  Kiu  Kiang." 

Sun,  glancing  out  the  window,  raised  his  hand. 
Doane  looked ;  two  small  German  cruisers,  the  kaiser's 
flag  at  the  taff,  were  steaming  up-stream. 

"They  know,"  murmured  Sun,  with  meaning.  "I 
wish  to  God  I  could  find  their  means  of  information. 
They  all  know.  From  the  Japanese  in  particular 
nothing  seems  to  be  hidden.  Two  or  three  of  your 
American  war-ships  are  already  up  there.  And  the 
English,  naturally,  in  force/' 

"They  must  be  on  hand  to  protect  the  foreign 
colony  at  Hankow.  The  Szechuen  trouble  would 
justify  such  a  move.'* 

But  Sun  shook  his  head.  "They  know,"  he 
repeated.  Then  he  clasped  Doane's  hand.  "However 
....  that  is  a  detail.  It  is  now  war.  You  will  find 
events  marching  fast — faster,  I  fear,  than  we  republi- 


68  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

cans  wish.     Good-by  now.     You  will  call  on  Doctor 
Wu." 

2 

The  steamer  moved  slowly  in  toward  the  landing 
hulk.  Doane,  from  the  boat  deck,  by  the  after  bell 
pull,  gazed  across  at  the  park-like  foreign  bund,  with 
its  embankment  of  masonry  and  its  trees.  Behind  lay, 
compactly,  the  walled  city.  Everything  looked  as  it 
had  always  looked — the  curious  crowd  along  the  rail- 
ing, the  water  carriers  passing  down  and  up  the  steps, 
the  eager  shouting  swarm  of  water  beggars.  Below, 
the  coolies  swung  out  from  the  hulk,  ready  to  make 
their  usual  breakneck  leap  over  green  water  to  the 
approaching  steamer.  Now — they  were  jumping.  The 
passengers  were  leaning  out  from  the  promenade  deck 
to  watch  and  applaud ....  Doane's  thoughts,  as  he 
went  mechanically  through  his  familiar  duties,  wan- 
dered off  inland,  past  the  battlements  and  towers  of 
the  ancient  city  to  the  thousands  of  other  ancient  cities 
and  villages  and  farmsteads  beyond ;  and  he  wondered 
if  the  scores  of  millions  of  lethargic  minds  in  all 
those  centers  of  population  could  really  be  awakened 
from  their  sleep  of  six  hundred  years  and  stirred  into 
action. 

Could  a  republic,  he  asked  himself,  possibly  mean 
anything  real  to  those  minds?  The  habit  of  mere 
endurance,  of  bare  existence,  was  so  deep-seated,  the 
struggle  to  live  so  intense,  the  opportunity  so  slight. 
Sun  Shi-pi  and  his  kind  were  a  semi-Western 


INTRIGUE  69 

product.  They  were,  when  all  was  said  and  done,  an 
exotic  breed.  They  were  the  ardent,  adventurous 
young;  and  they  were  the  few.  There  had  always 
been  a  throne  in  China,  always  extortionate  mandarins, 
always  a  popular  acceptance  of  conditions. 

The  lines  were  out  now.  And  suddenly  a  blue-clad 
soldier  climbed  over  the  rail,  below,  balanced  along 
the  stern  hawser,  leaped  to  the  hulk,  and  was  about  to 
disappear  among  the  coolies  there  when  a  rifle-shot 
cracked  and  he  fell.  He  seemed  to  fall,  if  anything, 
slightly  before  the  shot.  Another  soldier,  following 
close,  was  caught  by  a  second  shot  as  he  was  balancing 
on  the  hawser,  and  spun  headlong  into  the  water  where 
the  propeller  still  churned. 

A  few  moments  later,  when  Doane  moved  among 
the  passengers,  it  became  clear  that  they  knew  nothing 
of  the  casual  tragedy  astern.  They  were  all  pressing 
ashore  for  a  walk  in  the  native  city,  eager  to  buy 
the  worked  silver  that  is  traditionally  sold  there. 
The  slim  girl  in  the  middy  blouse  had  apparently  cap- 
tured young  Rocky  Kane ;  they  strolled  off  across  the 
bund  together.  But  Dawley  Kane  remained  aboard, 
stretched  out  comfortably  in  a  deck  chair,  listening 
thoughtfully  to  the  stocky  little  Japanese,  one  Kato, 
who  was  by  now  generally  known  to  be  his  alter  ego 
in  the  matter  of  buying  objects  of  Oriental  art. 

None  of  these  folk  knew  or  cared  about  China. 
Excepting  this  Kato.  Him  Doane  was  continually 
encountering  below  decks,  chatting  smilingly  in 
Chinese  with  the  good-natured  soldiers.  His  work 


70  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

along  the  river,  doubtless,  ranged  over  a  wider  field 
than  his  present  employer  would  ever  learn.  It  would 
be  interesting,  now,  to  know  what  he  was  saying, 
talking  so  rapidly  and  always,  of  course,  smiling. . . . 
The  rest  of  this  upper-deck  white  man's  existence 
Doane  dismissed  from  his  mind  as  he  went  about  his 
work.  It  was  all  too  familiar.  Though  later  he 
thought  of  Rocky  Kane.  The  boy,  wild  though  he 
might  be,  had  attractive  qualities.  It  was  not  pleasant 
to  see  that  girl  get  her  hands  on  him.  Just  one  more 
evil  influence. 

He  thought,  at  this  juncture,  of  the — the  word 
came — appalling  change  in  himself.  That  he,  once  a 
fervid  missionary,  could  stand  back  like  a  sophisti- 
cated European,  and  let  the  wandering  and  vicious  and 
broken  human  creatures  about  him  go  their  various 
ways,  as  might  be,  was  disturbing,  was  even  sadden- 
ing. Something  apparently  had  died  in  him.  Sun  had 
called  him  a  philosopher.  The  Oriental,  of  course, 
even  the  blazing  revolutionist,  admired  this  passive 
quality,  this  fatalistic  acceptance  of  the  fact.  He 
sighed.  To  be  a  philosopher  was,  then,  to  be  emo- 
tionally dead.  The  church  had  been  taken  out  of  his 
life,  leaving — nothing.  A  mate  on  a  river  steamer,  in 
China.  Life  had  gone  quite  topsy-turvey.  Even  the 
amazing  courtesy  of  his  excellency — it  was  that,  when 
you  considered — and  this  profound  compliment  from 
the  revolutionary  junta  seemed  but  incidents.  Too 
many  promises  had  smiled  at  Doane,  these  years  of 
his  spiritual  Odyssey — smiled  and  faded  to  nothing — 


INTRIGUE  71 

to  permit  an  easy  hope  of  anything  new  and  beautiful. 
He  was  beginning  to  believe  that  a  man  can  not  build 
and  live  two  lives.  And  he  had  built  and  lived  one. 

Captain  Benjamin  found  him;  a  dogged  little  cap- 
tain with  dull  fright  in  his  eyes.  "It's  happened,"  he 
said,  trying  desperately  to  attain  an  offhand  manner. 
"Company  wire.  They're  fighting  at  Wu  Chang. 
What  do  you  know  about  that !" 

Doane  was  silent.  It  was  extraordinarily  diffi- 
cult, here  by  this  calm  old  city,  on  a  sunny  afternoon, 
to  believe  that  it  was,  as  Sun  had  put  it,  war. 

"We're  to  tie  up,"  the  captain  went  on,  "until 
further  orders.  The  foreign  concessions  at  Hankow 
were  safe  enough  this  noon,  but  with  an  artillery  battle 
just  across  the  river,  and  an  imperial  army  moving 
down  from  the  north  over  the  railway,  they  stand  a 
lot  of  show,  they  do." 

"I  wonder  if  they'll  send  us  on." 

"What  difference  will  it  make?"  The  captain's 
voice  was  rising.  "You  know  as  well  as  I  do  that 
they'll  be  fighting  at  Nanking  before  we  could  get 
back  there.  Here,  too,  for  that  matter.  I  tell  you 
the  whole  river5!!  be  ablaze  by  to-morrow.  This«bloody 
old  river!  And  us  on  a  Manchu-owned  boat!  A  lot 
o'  chance  we  stand." 

3 

The  sight-seers  strolled  across  the  shady  bund, 
passed  a  stone  residence  or  two  and  a  warehouse,  and 
made  their  way  through  the  tunneled  gateway  in  the 


72  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

massive  city  wall.  Little  Miss  Andrews  was  escorted 
by  young  Mr.  Braker.  Miss  Means  walked  with  one 
of  the  customs  men.  Two  or  three  others  of  the  men 
wandered  on  ahead.  Rocky  Kane  and  the  thin  girl 
in  the  middy  blouse  brought  up  the  rear. 

As  they  entered  the  crowded  city  within  the  wall 
a  babel  of  sound  assailed  their  ears — the  beating  of 
drums  and  gongs,  clanging  cymbals,  a  musket  shot  or 
two,  fire-crackers;  and  underlying  these,  rising  even 
above  them,  never  slackening,  a  continuous  roar  of 
voices.  The  teachers  paused  in  alarm,  but  the  customs 
man  smilingly  assured  them  that  in  a  busy  Chinese  city 
the  noise  was  to  be  taken  for  granted. 

Nearly  every  shop  along  the  way  was  open  to  the 
street,  and  at  each  opening  men  swarmed — bargaining, 
chaffering,  quarreling.  The  only  women  to  be  seen 
were  those  in  black  trousers  on  a  wheelbarrow  that 
pushed  briskly  through  the  crowds,  the  barrow  man 
shouting  musically  as  he  shuffled  along.  Beggars 
wailed  from  the  niches  between  the  buildings.  Dogs 
snarled  and  barked — hundreds  of  dogs,  fighting  over 
scraps  of  offal  among  the  hundreds  of  nearly  naked 
children. 

A  mandarin  came  through  in  a  chair  of  green 
lacquer  and  rich  gold  ornament,  supercilious,  fat,  car- 
ried by  four  bearers  and  followed  by  imposing  officials 
who  wore  robes  of  black  and  red  and  hats  with  red 
plumes.  As  the  street  was  a  scant  ten  feet  in  width 
and  the  crowds  must  flatten  against  the  walls  to  make 
way  the  roar  grew  louder  and  higher  in  pitch. 


INTRIGUE  73 

There  were  shops  with  nothing  but  oils  in  huge 
jars  of  earthenware  or  in  wicker  baskets  lined  with 
stout  paper.  There  were  tea  shops  with  high  pyramids 
of  the  familiar  red-and-gold  parcels,  and  other  pyra- 
mids of  the  brick  tea  that  is  carried  on  camel  back  to 
Russia.  There  were  the  shops  of  the  idol  makers,  and 
others  where  were  displayed  the  carven  animals  and 
the  houses  and  carts  and  implements  that  are  burned 
in  ancestor  worship,  and  the  tinsel  shoes.  There  were 
shops  where  remarkably  large  coffins  were  piled  in 
square  heaps,  some  of  glistening  lacquer  with  the  ideo- 
graph characters  carven  or  embossed  in  new  gold. 
There  were  varnishers,  lacquerers,  tobacconists;  open 
eating  houses  in  which  could  be  seen  rows  of  pans  set 
into  brickwork.  There  were  displays  of  bean  cakes, 
melon  seeds  and  curious  drugs. 

Two  Manchu  soldiers  sauntered  by,  in  uniforms  of 
red  and  faded  blue;  fans  stuck  in  their  belts  and 
painted  paper  umbrellas  folded  in  their  hands.  One 
bore  a  hooded  falcon  on  his  wrist. 

Miss  Andrews  sniffed  the  penetrating  odor  of  all 
China,  that  was  spiced  just  here  with  smells  of  garlic 
cooking  and  frying  fish  and  pork  and  strong  oils  and 
— like  the  perfume  of  a  dainty  lady  amid  the  complex 
odors  of  a  French  theater — an  unexpected  whiff  of 
burning  incense.  She  looked  up  between  the  high 
walls,  on  which  hung,  close  together,  the  long  elab- 
orate signs  of  the  tradesmen,  black  and  green  and  red 
with  gold,  always  the  gold.  Across  the  narrow  open- 
ing from  roof  to  roof,  extended  a  bamboo  framework 


74  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

over  which  was  drawn  coarse  yellow  matting  or  blue 
cotton  cloths;  and  through  these  the  sunbeams,  dif- 
fused, glowed  in  a  warm  twilight,  with  here  and  there 
a  chance  ray  slanting  down  with  dazzling  brightness 
on  a  golden  sign  character. 

"It's  all  rather  terrifying,"  murmured  Miss 
Andrews,  at  Braker's  ear,  "but  it's  beautiful — wonder- 
ful! I  never  dreamed  of  China  being  so  human  and 
real." 

"And  to  think,"  said  he  eagerly,  "that  it  has  always 
been  like  this,  and  always  will  be.  It  was  just  so  in 
the  days  of  Abraham  and  Isaac.  The  one  people  in 
the  world  that  doesn't  change.  It's  their  whole  phi- 
losophy— passive  non-resistance,  peace.  And -do  you 
know,  I'm  beginning  to  wonder  if  they  aren't  right 
about  it.  For  here  they  are,  you  know.  Greece  is 
dead.  Rome's  dead.  And  Assyria,  and  Egypt.  But 
here  they  are.  It's  their  philosophy  that's  done  it,  I 
suppose.  Almost  be  worth  while  to  come  out  here  and 
live  a  while,  when  our  part  of  the  world  gets  too  upset. 
Just  for  a  sense  of  stability — somewhere." 

These  two  young  persons,  dreaming  of  stability 
while  the  earth  prepared  to  rock  beneath  their  feet ! 

Rocky  Kane  and  the  slim  girl  had  dropped  out  of 
sight,  lingering  at  this  shop  and  that.  The  party  later 
found  them  at  a  silversmith's  counter.  They  had 
bought  a  heap  of  the  silver  dragon-boxes  and 
cigarette  cases;  and  then  devised  a  fresh  little  idea  in 
gambling,  weighing  ten  Chinese  dollars  against  other 
ten  in  the  balanced  scales,  the  heavier  lot  winning. 


INTRIGUE  75 

Young  Kane  had  got  through  his  clothing,  somehow, 
there  in  the  street,  to  his  money  belt,  for  he  held  it  now 
carelessly  rolled  in  one  hand.  He  was  flushed,  laugh- 
ing softly.  He  and  the  thin  girl  were  getting  on. 

"Come  along,  you  two,"  remarked  the  customs 
man.  "We  stop  only  two  hours  here." 

The  young  couple,  gathering  up  their  purchases 
and  the  heaps  of  silver  dollars,  slowly  followed. 

"That  was  great!"  exclaimed  Rocky  Kane.  The 
thin  girl,  he  had  decided,  was  a  good  fellow.  She 
was  always  quiet,  discreet,  attractive.  In  her  curiously 
unobtrusive  way  she  seemed  to  know  everything. 
The  face  was  cold  in .  appearance.  Yet  she  was  dis- 
tinctly friendly.  Made  you  feel  that  nothing  you  might 
say  could  disturb  or  shock  her.  He  wondered  what 
could  be  going  on  behind  those  pale  quiet  eyes,  behind 
the  thin  lips.  The  men  had  remarked  on  the  fact 
that  she  was  traveling  alone.  She  was  a  provocative 
person — the  curiously  youthful  costume ;  the  black  hair 
gathered  at  the  neck  and  tied,  girlishly,  with  a  bow — 
really  an  exciting  person.  The  way  she  had  taken 
that  little  scene  out  on  deck  with  the  gorgeous  Chinese 
girl — Rocky  knew  nothing  of  the  distinctions  between 
the  Asiatic  peoples — who  spoke  English ;  quite  as  a 
matter  of  course.  Though  she  took  everything  that 
way.  This  little  gambling,  for  instance.  She  loved 
it — was  quick  at  it. 

"I'm  wondering  about  you,"  he  said,  as  they  wan- 
dered along.  "Wondering — you  know — why  you're 
traveling  this  way.  Have  you  got  folks  up  the  river  ?" 


76  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

"Oh,  no,"  she  replied — never  in  his  life  had  he 
known  such  self-control;  there  wasn't  even  color  in  her 
voice,  just  that  easy  quiet  way,  that  sense  of  giving 
out  no  vitality  whatever.  "Oh,  no.  I  have  some 
business  at  Hankow  and  Peking-." 

That  was  all  she  said.  The  subject  was  closed. 
And  yet,  she  hadn't  minded  his  asking.  She  was  still 
friendly;  he  felt  that.  His  feelings  rose.  He  giggled 
softly. 

"Lord!"  he  said,  "if  only  the  pater  wasn't  along!" 

"Does  he  hold  you  down?" 

"Does  he?  Brought  me  out  here  to  discipline  me. 
Trying  to  make  me  go  back  to  college — make  a  grind 
of  me.... I  was  just  thinking — here's  a  nice  girl  to 
play  with,  and  plenty  of  fun  around,  and  not  a  thing 
to  drink.  He  gave  me  fits  at  Shanghai  because  I  took 
a  few  drinks." 

"You  have  the  other  stuff,"  said  she.  He  turned 
nervously ;  stared  at  her.  But  she  remained  as  calmly 
unresponsive  as  ever.  Merely  explained :  "I  smelt  it, 
outside  your  cabin.  You  ought  to  be  careful — shut 
your  window  tight  when  you  smoke  it." 

He  held  his  breath  a  moment;  then  realized,  with 
an  uprush  of  feeling  warmer  than  any  he  had  felt 
before,  that  he  had  her  sympathy.  She  would  never 
tell,  never  in  the  world.  That  big  mate  might,  but 
she  wouldn't. 

She  added  this:  "I  can  give  you  a  drink.  Wait 
until  things  settle  down  on  the  boat  and  come  to  my 
cabin — number  four.  Just  be  sure  there's  no  one  in 


INTRIGUE  77 

the  corridor.  And  don't  knock.  The  door  will  be 
ajar.  Step  right  in.  Do  you  like  sake?" 

"Do  I — say,  you're  great!  You're  wonderful.  I 
never  knew  a  girl  like  you!" 

She  took  this  little  outbreak,  as  she  had  taken  all 
his  others,  without  even  a  smile.  It  was,  he  felt,  as  if 
they  had  always  known  each  other.  They  understood 
— perfectly. 

If  he  had  been  told,  then,  that  this  girl  had  been 
during  two  or  three  vivid  years  one  of  the  most  con- 
spicuous underworld  characters  along  the  coast — that 
coast  where  the  underworld  was  still,  at  the  time  of 
our  narrative,  openly  part  of  what  small  white  world 
there  was  out  here — a  gambler  and  blackmailer  of 
what  would  very  nearly  have  to  be  called  attainment — 
he  would  have  found  belief  impossible,  would  have 
defended  her  with  the  blind  impulsiveness  of  youth. 


4 


It  was  said  that  the  steamer  would  not  proceed  at 
the  scheduled  hour,  might  be  delayed  until  night. 
Disgruntled  white  passengers  settled  down,  in  berth 
and  deck  chair,  to  make  the  best  of  it.  There  was,  it 
came  vaguely  to  light,  a  little  trouble  up  the  river;  an 
outbreak  of  some  sort. 

Rocky  Kane,  a  flush  below  his  temples,  slipped 
stealthily  along  the  corridor.  At  number  four  he 
paused;  glanced  nervously  about;  then,  grinning, 
pushed  open  the  door  and  softly  closed  it  behind  him. 


78  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

The  strange  thin  Miss  Carmichael  was  combing  out  her 
black  hair.  With  a  confused  little  laugh  he  extended 
his  arms.  But  she  shook  her  head. 

"Sit  down  and  be  sensible/'  she  said.  "Here's  the 
sake." 

She  produced  a  bottle  and  poured  a  small  drink 
into  a  large  glass.  He  gulped  it  down. 

"Aren't  you  drinking  with  me?"  he  asked. 

"I  never  take  anything." 

"You're  a  funny  girl.  How'd  you  come  to  have 
this?" 

"It  was  given  to  me.  You'd  better  slip  along.  I 
can't  ask  you  to  stay." 

"But  when  am  I  going  to  see  you,  for  a  good 
visit?" 

"Oh,  there'll  be  chances  enough.     Here  we  are." 

"That's  so.  Looks  as  if  we'd  stay  here  a  while, 
too.  There's  a  battle  on,  you  know,  up  at  Wu  Chang 
and  Hankow.  Big  row.  We  get  all  the  news  from 
Kato.  He's  that  Japanese  that  father  has  with  him. 
The  revolutionists  have  captured  Wu  Chang,  and  are 
getting  ready  to  cross  over.  The  imperial  army's 
being  rushed  down  to  defend  Hankow.  Regular 
doings.  Shells  were  falling  in  the  foreign  concessions 
this  morning.  Kato's  got  all  the  news  there  is.  It's 
a  question  whether  we'll  go  on  at  all.  You  see  the 
Manchus  own  this  boat,  and  the  republicans  would 
certainly  get  after  us.  There  are  enough  foreign  war- 
ships up  there  to  protect  us,  of  course ....  How  about 
another  drink?" 


INTRIGUE  79 

"Better  not.     Your  father  will  notice  it." 

"He  won't  know  where  I  got  it."  Rocky  chuckled. 
He  felt  himself  an  adventurous  and  quite  manly  old 
devil — here  in  the  mysterious  girl's  cabin,  watching 
her  as  she  smoothed  and  tied  her  flowing  hair,  and 
sipping  the  potent  liquor  from  Japan.  "It's  funny 
nothing  seems  to  surprise  you.  Did  you  know  they 
were  fighting  up  there?" 

"No." 

"Wouldn't  you  be  a  little  frightened  if  we  were  to 
steam  right  into  a  battle?" 

"I  shouldn't  enjoy  it  particularly." 

"Aren't  you  even  interested?  Is  there  anything 
you're  interested  in?" 

"Certainly — I  have  my  interests.  You  must  go — 
really ....  No,  be  quiet !  Some  one  will  hear !  We 
can  visit  to-night — out  on  deck." 

"But  you're — I  don't  understand!  Here  we  are — 
like  this — and  you  shoo  me  out.  I  don't  even  know 
your  first  name." 

"My  name  is  Dixie — but  I  don't  want  you  to  call 
me  that." 

"Why  not?    We're  friends,  aren't  we — " 

"Of  course,  but  they'd  hear  you." 

"Oh!" 

"Wait — I'll  look  before  you  go ....  It's  all  clear 
now." 

They  visited  long  after  dinner.  He  was  brimming 
with  later  advices  from  the  center  of  trouble  up  the 
river.  Mostly  she  listened,  studying  him  with  a  mind 


8o  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

that  was  keener  and  quicker  and  shrewder  in  its  sordid 
wisdom  than  he  would  perhaps  ever  understand. 

Everything  that  Kato  had  told  his  father  and  him- 
self he  passed  eagerly  on  to  her.  He  was  a  man 
indeed  now;  making  an  enormous  impression;  posses- 
sor of  inside  information  of  a  vital  sort — the  viceroy's 
priceless  collection  of  jewels,  jades,  porcelains  and 
historic  paintings,  which  Kato  was  advising  his  father 
to  pick  up  for  a  song  while  red  revolution  raged  about 
the  old  Manchu,  the  dramatic  plans  of  the  republicans, 
their  emblems  and  a  pass-word  (Kato  knew  every- 
thing)— "Shui-li" — "union  is  strength";  the  small 
meeting  below  decks  ending  in  the  death  of  two  sol- 
diers. He  dramatized  this  last  as  he  related  it. 

The  girl,  lying  still  in  her  chair,  listened  as  if  but 
casually  interested,  while  her  mind  gathered  and  related 
to  one  another  the  probable  facts  beneath  his  words. 
She  was  considering  his  dominant  quality  of  ungov- 
erned  hot-blooded  youth.  Of  discretion  he  clearly 
enough  had  none ;  which  fact,  viewed  from  her  stand- 
point, was  both  important  and  dangerous.  For  the 
information  he  so  volubly  conveyed  she  had  immediate 
use.  That  was  settled,  however  cloudy  the  details. 
But  this  further  question  as  to  the  advisability  of  hold- 
ing the  boy  personally  to  herself  she  was  still  weighing. 
Two  courses  of  action  lay  before  her,  each  leading  to  a 
possible  rich  prize.  If  the  two  could  be  combined,  well 
and  good;  she  would  pursue  both.  But  it  was  not 
easy  to  sense  out  a  possible  combination.  The  obvious 
first  thought  was  to  go  whole-heartedly  after  the 


INTRIGUE  81 

larger  of  the  prizes  and  as  whole-heartedly  forget  the 
other.  As  usual  in  all  such  choices,  however,  the  lesser 
prize  was  the  easier  to  secure.  Perhaps,  even,  by 
working- — the  word  "working"  was  her  own — with 
great  rapidity  she  might  make — again  her  word — a 
killing  with  this  wild  youth  in  time  to  discard  him 
and  pursue  the  still  richer  prize. 

Because  he  was,  at  least,  the  bird  in  hand,  she  sub- 
mitted passively  when  his  fingers  found  hers  under 
the  steamer  rug.  Twilight  was  thickening  into  night 
now  on  the  river.  And  they  were  in  a  dim  corner. 
He  was,  she  saw,  at  the  point  of  almost  utter  disor- 
ganization. He  was  sensitive,  emotional,  quite  spoiled. 
It  was  almost  too  easy  to  do  what  she  might  choose 
with  him.  It  would  be  amusing  to  tantalize  him,  if 
there  were  time;  watch  him  struggle  in  the  net  of  his 
own  nervously  unripe  emotions,  perhaps  shake  him 
down  (we  are  yet  again  dropping  into  her  phrase- 
ology) without  the  surrender  of  a  quid  pro  quo.  That 
would  please  her  sense  of  cool  sharp  power.  But  he 
might  in  that  event,  like  the  young  naval  officer  down 
at  Hong  Kong,  shoot  himself;  which  wouldn't  do. 
No,  nothing  in  that! 

This  other  larger  matter,  now,  was  a  problem 
indeed;  really,  as  yet,  only  a  haze  in  her  sensitive, 
strangely  gifted  mind.  It  put  to  the  test  at  once  her 
imagination,  her  instinct  for  dangerous  enterprise,  her 
skill  at  organizing  the  sluggish  minds  of  others.  It 
would  mean  dangerous  and  intense  activity. 

She  asked,  in  a  careless  manner,  where  the  viceroy 


82  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

kept  his  treasures ;  and  fixed  in  her  mind  the  place  he 
named — Huang  Chau. 

The  fool  was  squeezing  her  fingers  now;  unques- 
tionably building  in  his  ungoverned  brain  an  extrava- 
gant image  of  herself;  an  image  wrapped  in  veils  of 
somewhat  tarnished  but  certainly  boyish  innocence, 
sentimentalized,  curiously  less  interesting  than  the 
complicated  wickedness  and  intrigue  of  actual  human 
life  as  it  presented  itself  to  her. 

When  he  tried  to  kiss  her  she  left  him.  But  lin- 
gered to  listen  to  his  proposal  that  she  should  follow 
him  to  his  own  cabin ;  smiled  enigmatically  in  the  dusk 
beneath  the  deck  light;  humming  lightly,  pleasingly, 
she  moved  away;  turned  to  watch  him  bolting  for  his 
room. 

5 

She  strolled  around  the  deck  then.  Apparently 
none  other  was  sitting  out.  The  teachers  and  the 
young  men  were  spending  the  evening,  she  knew,  with 
Dawley  Kane  at  the  consulate.  Rocky  had  got  out  of 
that.  Tex  Connor  was  in  his  cabin;  reading,  doubt- 
less, with  his  one  good  eye.  For  rough  as  he  might 
be,  this  gambler  and  promoter  of  boxing  and  wrestling 
reveled  secretly  in  love  stories.  He  read  them  by  the 
hundred,  the  old-fashioned  paper-covered  romances 
and  tales  of  adventure.  A  pretty  able  man,  Tex; 
useful  in  certain  sorts  of  undertakings ;  certainly  useful 
now;  but  with  that  curious  romantic  strain — a  weak- 
ness, she  felt.  And  a  difficult  man,  strong,  arrogant, 


INTRIGUE  83 

leaning  on  crude  power  and  threats  where  she  leaned 
on  delicately  adjusted  intrigue.  Had  Tex  known  bet- 
ter how  to  cover  his  various  trails  he  would  be  in  New 
York  or  London  now,  not  out  here  on  the  coast  pick- 
ing up  small  change.  Approaching  him  would  be  a 
bit  of  a  problem ;  for  a  year  or  so  their  ways,  hers  and 
his,  had  lain  far  apart.  It  was  not  known,  here  on 
the  boat,  that  they  were  so  much  as  casually  acquainted. 
They  bowed  at  the  dining  table ;  nothing  more. 

The  Manila  Kid  was  in  the  social  hall,  rummaging 
through  the  shelf  of  battered  and  scratched  records 
above  the  talking  machine.  A  quaint  spirit,  the  Kid ; 
weak,  oddly  useless,  gloomily  devoted  to  music  of  a 
simple  sort,  quite  without  enterprise.  But. .  .  .by  this 
time  the  delicate  steel  machinery  of  her  mind  was  func- 
tioning clearly. .  .  .he  would  serve  now,  if  only  as  a 
means  of  solving  that  first  little  problem  of  interest- 
ing Tex. 

She  paused  in  the  doorway;  caught  his  furtive 
eye,  and  with  a  slight  beckoning  movement  of  her 
head,  moved  back  into  the  comparative  darkness. 
Slowly — thick-headedly  of  course — he  came  out. 

"Jim,"  she  said,  "I'm  wondering  if  you  and  Tex 
wouldn't  like  to  pick  up  a  little  money." 

"What  do  you  think  we  are?"  he  replied  in  a 
guarded  sulky  voice.  "Tex  dropped  three  thousand  at 
that  fight.  There's  no  talking  to  him.  He's  rough 
— that's  what  he  is." 

"Jim — "  she  considered  the  man  before  her  delib- 


84  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

erately;  his  lank  spineless   figure,   his   characterless, 
hatchet  face:  "Jim,  send  Tex  to  me." 

"Why  should  I,  Dix?    Answer  me  that." 

"Don't  act  up,  Jim.  I've  never  handed  you  any- 
thing that  wasn't  more  than  coming  to  you.  I  know 
all  about  you,  Jim.  Everything!  I'm  not  talking — 
but  I  know.  This  is  a  big  proposition  I've  got  in 
mind,  and  you'll  get  your  share,  if  you  come  in  and 
stick  with  me?  How  about  half  a  million  in  jewels?" 

"I  don't  know's  Tex  would  care  to  go  in  for  any- 
thing like  that.  If  it's  a  yegg  job — " 

"I'm  not  a  yegg,"  she  replied  crisply.  "Ask  Tex 
to  slip  around  here.  I  don't  want  to  talk  on  that  side 
of  the  deck." 

"I  suppose  you  wouldn't  like  young  Kane  to  know 
what  you  are — er?" 

"That  sort  of  talk  won't  get  you  anywhere,  Jim." 

"Well — I've  got  eyes,  you  know." 

"Better  learn  how  to  use  them.  You  hurry  around 
to  Tex's  cabin.  We  may  have  to  move  quickly." 

Sulkily  the  Kid  went;  and  shortly  returned. 

"Well" — this  after  a  silence — "what  did  he  say? 
Is  he  coming?" 

"He  wants  you  to  go  around  there — to  his 
stateroom." 

"I  won't  do  that.    He's  got  to  come  here." 

This  decision  lightened  somewhat  the  gloom  on 
the  Kid's  saturnine  countenance.  He  went  again, 
more  briskly. 

The  girl  slipped  into  her  own  cabin  and  consulted 


INTRIGUE  85 

a  folding  map  of  China  she  had  there.  Huang  Chau 
— she  measured  roughly  from  the  scale  with  her  thumb 
— would  be  seventy  or  eighty  miles  up-stream  from 
Kiu  Kiang  here,  perhaps  thirty-five  down-stream 
from  Hankow. 

Tex  was  chewing  a  cigar  by  the  rail.  At  her  step 
his  round  impassive  face  turned  toward  her. 

She  said,  "Hello,  Tex!" 

He  replied,  his  one  eye  fixed  on  her:  "Well,  what 
is  this  job?" 

"Listen,  Tex — are  you  game  for  a  big  one?" 

"What  is  it?" 

"The  revolution's  broken  out  at  Hankow — or 
across  at  Wu  Chang — " 

"Yes,  I  know!" 

"There's  going  to  be  another  big  battle  near 
Hankow.  The  republicans  are  moving  over.  Sure  to 
be  a  mix-up." 

"Oh,  yes!" 

"There'll  be  loot—" 

"Oh,  that!" 

"Wait!  I  know  where  there's  a  collection  of 
jewels  —  diamonds,  pearls,  rubies,  emeralds  —  all 
kinds." 

"Do  you  know  how  to  get  it?" 

"Yes.  It's  a  big  thing.  We'd  be  selling  stones  for 
years  in  America  and  Europe.  Will  you  go  in  with 
'me,  fifty-fifty?" 

"What's  the  risk?" 

"Not  much — with  things  so  confused.     Looks  to 


86  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

me  like  one  of  those  chances  that  just  happens  once 
in  a  hundred  years.  Take  some  imagination  and 
nerve." 

"Where  is  this  stuff?" 

"I'll  tell  you  when  we  get  there.  You'll  have  to 
trust  me  about  that.  I've  never  lied  to  you,  and  you 
have  lied  to  me." 

"But—" 

"Listen !  Here's  the  idea.  There's  a  lot  of  nerv- 
ous soldiers  on  this  boat  that  wouldn't  mind  a  little 
loot  on  their  own.  Here's  your  boxer — what's  his 
name  ?" 

"Tom  Sung."  Connor's  eye  never  left  her  face; 
and  she,  on  her  part,  never  flinched. 

"To  those  soldiers  he's  the  biggest  man  on  earth. 
He  wouldn't  mind  a  little  clean-up,  either.  Oh,  there's 
enough,  Tex — plenty!  You  see  what  I'm  getting  at. 
With  your  Tom  for  a  leader  you  can  pick  up  a  few 
of  those  soldiers,  enough  to  get  away  clean — " 

"But  they're  shooting  'em!" 

"They  shot  two.  They'd  have  trouble  shooting 
forty.  Make  Tom  do  the  work — right  now,  to-night, 
while  we're  lying  up  here.  They'll  follow  him;  and 
you  won't  have  to  stand  back  of  him  if  he's  caught. 
He'll  just  be  one  of  the  rebels  then. .,.  .Get  this  right, 
Tex!  It's  a  real  chance.  You'll  never  get  another 
like  it.  With  the  soldiers  we  can  get  a  launch — hire 
it,  even,  if  you  want  to  play  safe — and  go  right  up 
there  and  get  the  stuff.  Nobody'll  ever  know  it  wasn't 
just  a  case  of  soldiers  on  the  loose." 


INTRIGUE  87 

"How're  you  going  to  get  away?  They'd  know 
we  weren't  here,  wouldn't  they?" 

"Don't  try  to  tell  me  we  couldn't  slip  out  of  China, 
if  we  had  to.  This  isn't  England  or  America.  I  don't 
believe  we'd  even  have  to.  Just  a  case  of  playing  it 
right — using  your  head." 

"Where  is  this  place?" 

"It's  there,  and  I'll  take  you  to  it." 

"You'll  have  to  tell  me." 

Quietly  she  moved  her  head  in  the  negative.  He 
would  hardly  know  that  the  viceroy  was  not  going  on 
through  to  Hankow  and  Peking;  she  had  the  informa- 
tion herself  only  from  Rocky  Kane.  Nor  would  he 
know,  by  any  chance,  the  situation  of  his  excellency's 
ancestral  home.  For  Tex  was  not  what  they  termed 
a  "sinologue";  he  knew  white  men  and  women  and 
yellow  servants,  the  steamers  and  railways,  the  gam- 
bling clubs  and  race  tracks ;  little  else.  There  was  then, 
little  reason  why  he  should  think  of  the  viceroy  at  all. 

"It's  anything  from  a  million  or  two  up,  Tex,"  she 
said  coolly.  "And  my  information  comes  straight. 
I'll  prove  it  by  taking  the  chance  with  you." 

He  shook  his  head;  half  turned.     "Where  is  it?" 

She  smiled. 

He  left  her  abruptly  then.  And  coolly  she  watched 
him  go.  It  would  take  a  little  time  for  Tex's  imagina- 
tion to  rise  to  it;  and  until  the  last  moment  he  would 
try  to  bluff  her  down.  It  was  just  poker;  they  had 
played  that  game  before,  she  and  Tex.  Once  he  had 


88  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

robbed  her.  But  not  this  time — not,  as  she  phrased  it, 
if  she  saw  him  first. 

The  Kid  came  edging  out  of  the  social  hall.  "Will 
he  do  it?"  he  whispered  hoarsely. 

"He  says  he  won't,"  replied  Dixie. 

"Say — that's  tough!  I  didn't  think  Tex  would 
overlook  a  thing  like  that.  What's  the  matter?" 

Dixie  now  considered  this  curiously  useless  man. 
Or  useless  he  had  always  seemed  to  her.  Now  she 
was  not  so  sure.  "He  makes  it  a  condition  that  I  tell 
him  where  the  stuff  is." 

"Well— Dix,  you'd  tell  him  that,  wouldn't  you?" 
The  Kid  was  whining.  "If  you  really  knew  yourself." 

"Of  course  I  won't  tell  him,  Jim.     Not  yet." 

His  eyes  sank  before  hers.  He  fumbled  in  a 
pocket;  produced  a  tiny  wrist  watch  of  platinum. 
"Look  here,  Dix,"  he  remarked  clumsily,  "things  ain't 
always  been's  pleasant  as  they  might  be  between  you 
and  I,  but  I  was  wondering  if  you  wouldn't  put  this 
on,  for  old  times'  sake,  like." 

She  took  the  gift,  weighed  it  in  her  hand.  "Thank 
you,  Jim,"  she  replied.  "That's  awfully  nice  of  you. 
Though  perhaps  I'd  better  not  wear  it  here  on  the 
boat." 

"I  suppose  young  Kane  might  ask  questions,  eh?" 

"Nothing  like  that.  I'll  wear  it.  Here — you  snap 
the  catch,  Jim." 

"I — I  might  wish  it  on,  Dix,  like  the  kids  do." 

"All  right.    Have  you  wished?" 

"Sure.     Say,  Dix,  you  won't  mind  the  little  place 


INTRIGUE  89 

where  the  initials  got  scratched  off  inside  the  back 
cover.     Nobody'll  see  that." 
"Surely  not,"  said  Dixie. 


At  a  little  after  midnight  Griggsby  Doane  mounted 
to  the  boat  deck  and  walked  quietly  aft  past  the  fun- 
nels and  the  engine  room  ventilators.  A  half  moon 
threw  shadows  along  the  bund  and  among  the  land- 
ing hulks  and  the  moored  silent  sampans,  lorchas, 
junks.  The  mile-wide  river  shimmered  in  a  million 
ripples. 

A  slight  figure  rose  from  a  skylight. 

Hui  Fei  wore  the  black  jacket  and  trousers  of  the 
lower  class  Chinese  women  below  decks.  Her  head 
was  uncovered,  and  her  hair  waved  prettily  down 
across  the  wide  forehead.  She  should  have  oiled  it 
flat,  of  course,  to  complete  her  disguise ;  this  careless 
arrangement  was  charming  in  the  moonlight  but  was 
neither  Manchu  nor  Chinese. 

Doane  found  himself  holding  her  small  hand  and 
looking  gravely  down  at  her.  He  even  slowly  shook 
his  head.  "You  must  tell  me  quickly  what  you  have  to 
say,  Miss  Hui.  As  soon  as  possible  you  must  go  back. 
This  is  very  unsafe." 

"Oh,  yes,"  she  said.  "It  will  not  be  long.  It  is 
ver*  har'  to  say.  But  I  am  so  alone.  There  is  no  one 
to  tell  me  what  I  mus'  do." 

She  plunged  bravely  into  her  story.    Her  informa- 


90  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

tion  had  come  from  one  or  another  of  her  maids.  And 
she  had  overheard  gossip  among  the  mandarins.  The 
throne  had  sent  her  father  the  silken  cord.  She  could 
not  discover  why.  To  be  sure  they  called  him  a  secon- 
dary devil,  meaning  one  who  sympathized  with  the 
foreigners.  The  reactionary  Manchus  at  Peking, 
reveling  and  plotting  within  the  sacred  walls  of  the 
Forbidden  City,  remembered  nothing,  it  appeared,  of 
the  recent  past.  The  eunuchs,  always  the  stormy 
petrels  of  China's  darkest  days,  were  again  in  power 
at  the  palace ;  the  great  empress  dowager,  she  whom  all 
China  termed,  half-affectionately,  "the  Old  Buddha," 
had  given  them  their  head,  and  now  this  new  young 
empress  with  all  the  arrogance  of  the  Old  Buddha  and 
none  of  her  genius  for  power  or  her  profound  experi- 
ence, was  running  wild.  And  as  a  consequence,  Kang 
Yu,  the  statesman  who  more  than  any  other  was 
equipped  to  counsel  her  wisely  during  this  stormy  time, 
was  returning  to  the  home  of  his  ancestors  to  die  by  his 
own  hand.  It  would  be  said  at  the  Forbidden  City 
that  a  gracious  empress  dowager  had  "permitted"  him 
to  go. . .  .Doane's  disturbed  thoughts  darted  back  over 
the  bloodstained  recent  history  of  Manchu  officialdom. 
The  Old  Buddha  had  "permitted"  Ch'i  Ying,  late 
Manchu  Viceroy  of  Canton,  to  slay  himself;  and  had 
graciously  extended  the  same  privilege  to  others  after 
the  Boxer  trouble  of  the  year  1900,  among  them  an 
acquaintance  of  Doane's,  Chao  Shu-ch'iao.  Others  she 
had  decapitated — Yuan  Ch'ang,  Li  Shan,  Controller 
of  the  Household,  and  Hsu  Ching,  President  of  the 


INTRIGUE  91 

Board  of  War.  She  killed,  too,  Hsu  Ching-Ch'eng, 
who,  like  Kang,  had  held  the  post  of  minister  in  more 
than  one  of  the  capitals  of  Europe.  The  only  known 
charge  against  this  Hsu  was  that  he  had  come  to 
admire  foreign  customs. 

In  her  narrative  the  girl  spoke  only  English.  Her 
voice  was  deep  in  quality,  without  heaviness;  musical, 
like  most  voices  among  the  better-to-do  in  the  Middle 
Kingdom,  Chinese  and  Manchu  alike.  And,  colored 
now  with  deep  emotion,  it  had  an  appealing  quality  to 
which  Doane  found  a  response — difficult,  at  the  mo- 
ment, to  repress — among  his  own  emotions.  He 
sensed,  too,  with  a  pleasure  that  was,  in  his  lonely  life, 
stirring,  the  naivete  of  her  Western  feeling.  Standing 
here  in  simple  native  costume,  in  the  heart  of  old 
China,  gazing  wistfully  out  over  the  tangled  hundreds 
of  sleeping  junks  and  sampans,  this  girl,  freshly  out 
of  a  Massachusetts  college,  was  pleading  against  hope 
that  her  father  might  be  spared  the  final  jealous  ven- 
geance of  the  mightiest  remaining  Oriental  throne. 

The  China  that  Doane  had  so  long  known,  that 
had,  indeed,  for  better  or  worse,  been  woven  into  the 
fiber  of  his  being,  was  turning  suddenly  incredible. 
He  stared,  more  intently  than  he  knew,  straight  down 
at  the  slim  little  figure — for  beside  his  own  huge  frame 
this  tall  girl  appeared  as  hardly  more  than  a  child — 
at  the  unadorned  face  that  was  softly  girlish,  at  the 
black  hair  waving  down  over  the  pale  forehead,  glis- 
tening in  the  moonlight. 

"They  mean  to  confisca' " — she  left  off,  in  her 


92  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

eagerness  to  explain,  the  final  te — "all  his  property. 
Tell  me,  Mis'er  Doane,  can  they  do  that — all  his 
property  ?" 

He  reflected.  There  would  be  vast  areas  of  tea- 
lands  and  rice  lands,  almost  innumerable  shares  in 
these  new  corporations,  the  famous  collections  of  jades, 
paintings,  carvings  and  jewels.  Finally  he  inclined 
his  head. 

"I'm  afraid  they  could.  It  would  be  an  outrageous 
act,  but  the  government  now,  I'm  sorry  to  say,  is  in 
outrageous  hands.  If  the  empress  is  determined,  as 
apparently  she  is,  there  are  ways  enough  of  getting  at 
all  his  possessions.  Even  through  the  banks."  His 
heart  was  full,  his  voice  tender;  but  he  could  not 
deceive  her.  He  added  a  question :  "Does  his  excel- 
lency, your  father,  know  all  this?" 

She  nodded.  "I  have  tol'  him.  But  I  can  no' 
make  him  see  it  like  me.  Oh,  we  are  so  differen'.  I 
am,  you  see,  an  American  girl.  I  am  free  here,"  she 
laid  a  pretty  hand  on  her  breast.  "When  I  try  to 
think  of  all  these  dreadful  things — of  these  wicked 
eunuchs  an'  the  empress  who  is  like  thousan'  of  years 
ago — blin',  childish! — an'  the  people  who  can  no'  yet 
see  it  differen' — I  get  bewilder'.  You  un'erstan'.  You 
are  an  American,  too.  I  can  speak  with  you.  That 
is  well,  because  there  isn'  anybody  else  I  can  speak 
with.  An'  my  father  admires  you.  If  you  will  only 
speak  with  him — if  you  will  only  help  me  make  him 
think  differen'!" 

Doane  wondered  what  he  could  do,  what  she  imag- 


INTRIGUE  93 

ined  he  could  do,  without  influence  or  money.  He 
quite  forgot,  in  this  matter  of  influence  alone,  the 
significance  of  the  viceroy's  courtesy,  as  of  Sun 
Shi-pi's  appeal  to  him.  For  a  little  too  long  he  had 
been  a  beaten  man.  It  was  becoming  dangerously  near 
a  habit  so  to  consider  himself.  And  now,  to  make 
active  clear  thinking  impossible,  emotion  flooded  his 
brain.  Gently  he  asked  her  what  she  would  have 
him  do. 

"My  father  will  no'  listen  when  I  speak.  He  is 
ver'  kind,  ver'  generous.  He  has  made  me  an  Ameri- 
can girl.  That  is  one  of  the  things  they  say  is  wrong. 
Even  for  tha'  they  attack  his  good  name.  But  when 
I  ask  him  no'  to  do  this,  no'  to  die  so  wrongly,  he 
speaks  to  me  like  an  ol'  Manchu  of  long  ago." 

"He  is  between  the  worlds,"  mused  Doane,  aloud. 

"Yes,  it  is  that.  An'  I,  perhaps,  am  between  the 
wort's." 

"And  I." 

"But  he  mus'  no*  do  it!  It  is  so  simple!  The 
throne  will  no'  live.  Not  one  year  more.  I  know 
that.  They  are  fighting  now  at  Wu  Chang." 

Doane  inclined  his  head.  "I  know  that,  Miss  Hui, 
but  the  revolution  has  not  yet  gone  so  far  that  success 
is  sure." 

"But  it  is  sure.  The  people  will  everywhere  rise. 
I  know  it — here!" 

"That  is  my  hope,  too.  But  to  stir  this  great  land 
means  so  much  in  effort  and  education.  You  have 
changed,  yes.  Your  father  has  changed.  Sun  Yat  Sen 


94  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

was  educated  in  a  medical  school  and  has  lived  in 
America  and  England;  he  has  changed.  But  all 
China — I  do  not  want  to  dash  your  hopes,  dear  Miss 
Hui,  but  I  fear  China  is  not  nearly  so  far  along  as  you 
and  I  would  wish." 

"Then — even  so — mus'  my  father  die  because  a 
wicked  empress  has  no  brains  ?  It  is  no'  right.  Listen, 
please !  If  you,  Mis'er  Doane,  would  jus*  try  to  persua' 
my  father!  He  will  listen  to  you.  Oh,  if  you  woul' 
stay  with  us,  an'  help  us.  We  coul'  take  some  money, 
some  jewels,  an'  escape  down  the  river — to  Shanghai 
— to  Japan,  or  even  America.  My  father  mus'  no' 
die  like  this.  There  will  be  a  few  servan's  we  can 
trus'.  You  speak  to  my  father,  sir,  an'  he  will  listen. 
I  know  that.  He  says  you  have  the  mind  of  the  ol' 
philosopher — of  Lao-tze  himself.  He  said  that.  An* 
you  have  the  Western  strength  that  he  admires.  An' 
he  says  you  un'erstan'  China.  Oh,  will  you  speak  to 
him?" 

Doane  stared  out  into  the  luminous  night.  This 
response  in  his  breast  to  her  eager  youth  frightened 
him  now.  He  had  felt  of  late  that  life  mattered  little; 
certainly  not  his  own.  But  youth,  and  hope,  and  faith 
— they  mattered. 

He  took  her  small  hand  in  his  own.  His  heart 
was  beating  high.  It  was  going  to  be  hard  now,  to 
control  his  voice.  He  was,  then,  after  all  the  years, 
the  struggles,  the  beatings,  incurably  romantic .... 
Stirred  yet  by  the  vibrant  pulse  of  youth  that  in  some 
men  and  women  never  dies.  He  himself  had  thought 


INTRIGUE  95 

this  negative  spirit  of  the  past  few  years  a  philosophy, 
but  apparently,  it  was  nothing  of  the  sort.  Or  where 
was  it  now  ?  For  he  was  suddenly  all  nervously  alive, 
a  man  of  vigor  and  pride,  a  man  of  urgent  emotional 
need .... 

"I  will  try,"  he  said. 

She  clung  to  his  hand.    "I  have  your  promise  ?" 

He  bowed.  "I  must  think.  I  should  not  like  to 
fail.  There  will  be  time.  He  will" — it  was  hard  to 
phrase  this — "he  will  wait,  surely,  until  he  is  at  home. 
But  you  must  not  stay  longer  here.  And  we  must  not 
meet  again  like  this.  I  will  try  my  best  to  help  you." 

It  seemed  a  pitifully  inadequate  speech.  But  the 
wild  impulse  was  upon  him  to  clasp  her  lovely  person 
in  his  arms — claim  her,  fight  for  her,  live  again  a 
man's  life  through  and  for  her.  It  was,  he  deliberately 
thought,  almost  insane  in  him.  A  man  with  nothing  to 
offer,  not  even  the  great  hope  of  youth,  struggling 
against  an  emotion,  a  hunger,  that  it  was  grotesque  to 
indulge.  He  compressed  his  lips  tightly. 

She  seemed  breathless.  For  a  moment  she  pressed 
her  hands  to  her  cheeks  and  eyes ;  then  waved  to  him 
and  went  lightly  down  the  ladder. 


CHAPTER  V 

RESURGENCE 

HPHE  upper-deck  passengers  awoke  in  the  morning 
to  find  the  engines  still  at  rest,  and  the  now 
familiar  view  of  Kiu  Kiang  still  to  be  seen  from  port- 
side  windows;  the  Yen  Hsin  had  merely  been  moved 
a  hundred  yards  or  so  below  the  landing  hulk  and 
anchored.  There  was  grumbling  about  the  breakfast 
table.  The  captain  did  not  appear.  The  huge  mate 
was  preoccupied;  explaining  with  grave  courtesy  that 
he  had  no  further  news.  He  assumed  that  orders  to 
proceed  to  Hankow  would  be  forthcoming  during  the 
day.  It  was  understood  now  that  the  republican  troops 
were  everywhere  protecting  white  folk,  and,  in  any 
event,  the  foreign  concessions  up  the  river  were  well 
guarded  by  the  war-ships. 

The  outstanding  fact  was  that  they  were  to  spend 
at  least  another  night  on  the  river.  The  sensible  thing 
to  do,  or  so  decided  the  younger  men,  was  to  have  a 
dance.  Accordingly,  before  tiffin,  committees  were 
hard  at  work  planning  decorations  for  the  social  hall. 
Miss  Means  proved  a  fertile  source  of  entertaining 
ideas.  And  it  was  agreed,  during  the  day,  that  Miss 
Andrews  had  a  pretty  taste  at  hanging  flags. 

96 


RESURGENCE  97 

The  Chinese  day  begins  with  the  light.  And  little 
Mr.  Kato,  sitting  smilingly  through  breakfast,  had 
already  passed  hours  among  his  below-decks  acquaint- 
ance. After  breakfast  he  sat  outside  with  the  Kanes, 
senior  and  junior,  talking  rapidly.  There  Miss  Car- 
michael  observed  them;  later,  when  Rocky  stood  by 
the  rail  throwing  brass  cash  down  into  the  crowding, 
nosing  sampans  of  the  water  beggars,  she  strolled  his 
way — looking  incredibly  young — carrying  a  book  from 
the  boat's  library,  a  thin  finger  between  the  pages  as 
a  mark.  She  smiled  at  the  quarreling  beggars  below. 
But  he,  at  sight  of  her,  grew  sulky. 

"You  didn't  come  last  night,"  he  said,  very  low, 
his  voice  thick  with  suddenly  rising  feeling. 

"No,  I  couldn't.     You  can't  always  plan  things." 

"Well,  you   said—" 

"Rocky,  please !  You  mustn't  talk  like  that.  We 
can  be  seen." 

"Well — "  he  closed  his  lips.  It  was  the  first  time 
she  had  called  him  by  his  name.  That  seemed  some- 
thing. And  she  was  right ;  they  must  keep  up  appear- 
ances. He  felt  that  she  was  extremely  clever;  living 
her  own  life  as  a  business  woman,  away  out  here,  doing 
as  she  chose,  like  a  man,  never  losing  her  head  for  a 
moment.  Well,  he  would  show  her  that  he  could  be 
a  sport. 

''Kato  picked  up  some  queer  news  this  morning, 
prowling  around.  There's  a  mutiny  brewing  below 
decks.  He  hasn't  got  all  the  facts,  yet.  He's  down 
there  now.  It's  the  viceroy's  soldiers.  First  thing  we 


98  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

know  they'll  be  blowing  up  the  boat."  He  was  gloomy 
about  it;  boyishly  turning  his  heavy  burden  of  self- 
pity  and  reproach  into  the  new  channel. 

"Well,"  said  she,  "we'll  all  have  to  take  our 
chances,  I  suppose,"  and  moved  away  a  step,  pausing 
and  balancing  gracefully  on  the  balls  of  her  feet  and 
smiling  at  him. 

"Wait,"  he  muttered— "don't  go!" 

"It's  better.  No  good  in  our  being  seen  too  much 
together — " 

"Too  much?" 

"I'll  save  you  some  dances  to-night." 

"A  lot!    All  of  them!" 

She  smiled  again  at  this  outburst;  said,  "We  can 
visit  afterward,  anyhow,"  and  moved  away. 

On  the  other  side  of  the  deck  she  found  the  Manila 
Kid  leaning  in  a  doorway,  moodily  chewing  a  match. 
His  listless  eyes  at  once  sought  her  wrist. 

"You're  not  wearing  it,"  he  muttered. 

"You  know  why,  Jim." 

"Sure !    Young  Kane." 

"Oh,  Jim,  where  are  your  brains?  Don't  try  to 
tell  me  that  Tex  hasn't  seen  that  watch ....  Well,  do 
you  want  him  to  know  there's  something  between  us 
— just  now — " 

"I  don't  know's  I—" 

Her  pale  cool  eyes  swept  the  deck.  Then  she  leaned 
beside  him;  opened  her  book,  then  looked  out  over  it 
at  the  shipping  and  the  dimpling  river  beyond ;  smiled 


RESURGENCE  99 

in  her  easy  way.  "Jim,  why  didn't  you  tell  me  that 
Tex  has  started  this  thing  without  me?" 

"I've  been  watching  for  a  chance  to." 

She  considered  this.     He  went  on : 

"Look  here,  Dixie,  this  is  big  stuff!" 

"Of  course." 

"I've  been  trying  to  figure  out  how  we  stand.  I 
didn't  quite  get  you  last  night.  Tex  and  his  boy  Tom 
have  got  a  bunch  of  the  soldiers  now.  But  they're 
moving  careful  because  there's  another  show  been 
started.  One  of  the  regular  revolutionary  crowd  is 
below  there  stirring  'em  up.  Some  of  'em  are  full  of 
this  republic  idea,  want  to  die  for  it  and  all  that  stuff, 
and  Tex  has  to  move  cautious  to  buy  'em  off.  Say, 
what  does  he  want  so  many  for?" 

"The  more  the  better." 

"But  how're  you  going  to  pay  'em?" 

"Let  them  loot." 

"But  Tex — and  Tom — are  promising  them  part 
of  the  real  stuff.  Jewels." 

"Oh,  you'd  probably  have  to  promise.  But  when 
they  get  into  it,  with  plenty  of  loot  and  liquor  and 
women,  it'll  be  easy  enough  to  get  away  from  them." 

"But  how're  you  going  to  keep  'em  in  hand  before 
that?  Do  you  know  what  some  of  'em  are  whispering 
around  now  ?  They  want  to  carve  up  the  boat.  Come 
right  up  here  and  go  through  the  viceroy's  outfit." 

"But  he  hasn't  much  stuff  here,  Jim.  We've  got 
bigger  game  than  that." 


ioo  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

"I  know — and  anyway  it'd  bring  a  gunboat  down 
on  us.  That's  what  Tex  is  trying  to  make  Tom  see. 
Tom's  in  Tex's  room  now.  But  my  God,  Dixie,  when 
I  think  of  what  you've  started  in  that  offhand  way  o' 
yours . . . . " 

"Tex'll  hold  them  down,  Jim.  That's  one  good 
thing  about  him,  he's  not  weak.  You're  nervous.  Bet- 
ter go  in  and  help  the  teachers  hang  flags.  That'll 
soothe  you.  You  and  I  mustn't  talk  any  more  either. 
If  there's  any  news  for  me,  better  send  me  a  chit  by 
a  boy." 

The  Kid  looked  mournfully  at  her.  He  was  a  gro- 
tesque, this  Jim  Watson,  tall,  angular,  thin  bony  face 
under  the  tipped-back  cap,  bald  salients  running  up 
into  his  hair  on  either  side  the  plastered-down  front 
locks.  And  as  he  gazed  on  this  wisp  of  a  girl  who 
had  slipped  mysteriously  in  among  the  adroit  swindlers 
and  adventuresses  of  the  coast  but  a  few  brief  years 
back  and  had  from  the  very  beginning  cleverly  made 
her  way,  his  disorganized  spirit  yearned  toward  her. 
She  had  brains,  and  used  them.  She  knew  how  to  be 
nice  to  a  fellow,  and  the  Kid  hungered  for  sympathy. 
And  she  was  piquantly  desirable ;  in  part  because  men 
sought  her  without  success.  Except  perhaps  that 
young  naval  officer  at  Hong  Kong,  the  name  of  no 
man  had  been  seriously  linked  with  hers;  and  the  fact 
that  he  was  an  eldest  son  of  one  of  the  richest  and 
greatest  families  in  England  in  a  measure  removed 
the  incident  beyond  the  confines  of  normal  human 
experience.  No,  the  Kid  could  hardly  feel  that  he 


RESURGENCE  101 

ought  to  resent  that.  He  knew,  as  he  so  moodily  sur- 
veyed her,  that  her  sympathy — the  word  was  his  own 
— could  be  bought  only  at  a  high  price.  The  price, 
indeed,  frightened  him.  He  couldn't  think  along  with 
Dixie  and  Tex.  Nor  could  he  easily  conceive  of  oppos- 
ing Tex,  for  the  man  was  strong  and  merciless. 
Still.... 

"See  here,  Dixie,  if  I  wasn't  so  fool  crazy  over  you, 
do  you  think  for  a  minute  I'd  let  you  drag  me  into  this 
kind  of  a  mix-up?  Why,  my  God! — when  I  got  to 
thinking  about  it  last  night — the  risks  you're 
running — " 

"It's  big  stakes,  Jim.  You  can't  expect  a  million  to 
fall  into  your  lap.  Got  to  play  for  it  Tell  me — does 
this  Tom  Sung  understand  English  ?" 

"Of  course !  He  was  a  farm  laborer  in  California, 
and  a  cook  in  the  United  States  Navy.  Why?" 

"I  may  have  to  talk  to  him  myself  before  we  get 
through  with  it." 

"Of  course  you  know  Tex  means  to  rob  you  ?" 

"Of  course,"  said  she,  smiling  a  little  for  the  bene- 
fit of  a  customs  man  who  appeared  up  forward.  "You 
run  along  now,  Jim.  This  is  no  game  for  weak  nerves. 
Remember,  I  need  you." 

"Well— just  this—" 

"Careful!" 

" — You  listen,  now!  You  won't  find  me  getting 
cold  feet — " 

"I'm  sure  of  that." 

"And  I  ain't  afraid  o'  Tex  Connor,  either!     If 


102  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

you  mean  that  I've  got  to  go  up  against  him — Well, 
say,  look  here!  If  I  go  through — if  I  do  everything 
you  say — how're  we  going  to  stand,  you  and  me  ?" 

"I  let  you  give  me  the  watch,  didn't  I  ?" 

"Well — that's  all  right — but  I  asked  you  once  to  go 
to  the  Islands  with  me,  and  you  wouldn't." 

"Not  over  there.     I  know  too  many  people." 

"Well,  somewhere  else,  then!  Tell  me  straight, 
now!  If  we  pull  this  off — shake  down  a  real  pile — 
will  you  go  with  me?" 

She  looked  thoughtfully  at  him  for  a  brief 
moment;  then  turned  again  to  the  river.  "You  know 
I'm  fond  of  you,  Jim." 

"It's  a  trade,  Dixie?  If  I  stick  to  you,  you'll 
stick  to  me?" 

She  considered  this;  finally,  very  quietly,  barely 
parting  her  lips,  replied,  simply:  "Yes." 

He  drew  in  his  breath  with  a  whistling  sound. 

She  added,  then :  "Careful,  Jim !  I  know  how  you 
feel,  but  don't  let  yourself  talk." 

"I  know,  Dix,  but  my  God !  When  I  think  of  how 
you've  kept  me  dancing  this  year — and  now — " 

"I'll  say  this,  Jim.  Just  this.  If  you  knew  every- 
thing about  Tex  Connor — " 

"You  mean,  he's  tried  to—" 

"I  mean  certain  things  he's  said  to  me.  If  you're 
as  fond  of  me  as  that  you'd  understand  why  I've  felt, 
once  or  twice,  like  killing  him.  That  man  is  a  devil, 
Jim." 

Then  she  slipped  away. 


RESURGENCE  103 


Miss  Carmichael  sat  deliberately  through  tiffing 
discreetly  quiet,  as  always ;  apparently  without  nerves. 
The  Kid  ate  rapidly,  speaking  not  a  word,  seldom 
looking  up  from  his  plate.  Tex  Connor  was  calmly 
wooden,  as  always,  though  at  intervals  Miss  Car- 
michael felt  his  eye  on  her  as  she  daintily  nibbled  her 
curry. 

After  tiffin  she  was  stretched  comfortably  in  her 
deck  chair,  reading,  or  seeming  to,  when  Connor 
appeared,  strolling  along  the  deck,  hands  deep  in 
pockets,  chewing  the  inevitable  Manila  cigar.  He 
wore  a  neat  cap,  and  his  large  person  was  clothed  in 
an  outing  suit  of  gray  flannel.  On  his  feet  were  shoes 
of  whitened  leather  with  rubber  soles.  To  any  but  a 
shrewd  student  of  physiognomy  he  might  have  passed 
for  a  prosperous  American  business  man  or  politician 
of  the  bluff  western  sort. 

He  paused  at  her  careless  nod ;  bent  his  face  around 
and  stared  coldly  at  her.  Nothing  of  the  real  man 
showed;  even  his  rough  vulgarity  was  concealed 
behind  the  mask  and  the  manner.  He  ought  to  have 
a  woman  to  tell  him,  she  thought,  that  he  was  alto- 
gether too  stout  to  wear  a  Norfolk  jacket 

"Sit  down?"  she  asked. 

He  dropped  into  the  chair  beside  her. 

"Looks  as  if  we'd  be  hung  up  here  till  night  any- 
how," he  said  gruffly.  "All  foolishness,  too.  It's 
safe  enough  between  here  and  Hankow.  The  Jardine 


104  IN  RED  'AND  GOLD 

boat  came  down  this  morning.  And  we  land  at  the 
concessions — don't  have  to  go  clear  up  to  the  city." 
He  drummed  on  the  chair;  shifted  his  cigar.  "I  can't 
hang  around  here.  Got  to  get  up  to  Peking  before 
they  close  off  the  railroad." 

She  listened  quietly  to  this  little  tirade;  then 
remarked:  "Thought  over  my  proposition,  Tex?" 

"What  proposition?. . . .  Oh,  that  scheme?  Sure, 
I've  thought  it  over.  Nothing  in  it,  Dix." 

"Why  not?" 

"Too  complicated.  Did  you  ever  see  a  lot  of  sol- 
diers on  the  loose — their  killing  blood  up?  You  could 
never  handle  'em  in  the  world." 

"Oh,  of  course,"  said  she,  "if  you  tried  any  coarse 
work.  But  I  wouldn't  pin  that  on  you,  Tex." 

"It's  easy  to  talk."  Connor's  voice  rose  slightly; 
he  noted  the  fact  himself;  paused  and  spoke  with 
greater  deliberation.  "But  I  wouldn't  tackle  a  game 
like  that.  It  ain't  practical.  Anyhow,  Dix,  I  wouldn't 
go  it  blind.  I'd  have  to  know  where  I  was  going  every 
minute.  If  you  wanted  to  talk  real  business,  it  might 
be  different.  I  might  see  a  way  to  start  something. 

But  even  at  that" — he  got  heavily  to  his  feet "No, 

thing  for  me's  to  stick  to  my  own  line." 

He  was  moving  slowly  away  when  Her  slow  light 
voice  brought  him  up  short.  "Tex,"  she  said,  "I  see 
you're  just  a  cheap  liar,  after  all." 

Then  she  watched  the  color  sweep  over  his  face. 
It  was  something  to  stir  that  wooden  countenance  with 


RESURGENCE  105 

genuine  emotion.  She  even  found  a  perverse  thrill 
in  the  experience. 

He  stood  motionless  for  a  long1  moment.  Finally 
he  said,  none  too  steadily :  "You  know  what  would 
happen  to  a  man  that  said  that  to  me." 

"What  would  you  do  ?  Shoot  ? . . . .  Where  would 
that  get  you  ?  No,  Tex,  listen !  Sit  down  here." 

But  he  stood  over  her. 

"I  know  everything  you're  doing." 

"Oh— you  do?" 

"You're  crossing  me.  But  you  can't  get  away  with 
it.  You  know  where  you  are— in  China !  And  you're 
tampering  with  the  troops  of  the  viceroy  of  Nanking. 
My  God,  Tex,  haven't  you  any  brains  ?  Did  you  really 
think  I'd  show  my  hand  ?" 

He  chewed  the  cigar  in  silence,  staring  down. 

"I'll  give  you  your  choice,"  she  went  on.  "You 
can  work  with  me,  fifty-fifty,  or  I'll  have  Tom  Sung 
beheaded.  And  then  you'll  be  out  a  meal  ticket.  And 
all  your  expenses  with  Tom  up  to  now.  And  the 
three  thousand  you  lost  to  the  Kanes." 

"You  don't  know  what  you're  talking  about!  I 
haven't  even  seen  Tom  Sung  in  twenty- four  hours." 

"That's  another  lie.  He  was  in  your  room  this 
morning." 

"How  do  you  know  that?  Say,  if  Jim  Watson's 
been  talking. ..." 

"He  hasn't,  Tex.  I've  got  my  information — and 
there's  a  lot  of  it — from  Kato  the  Japanese.  Go  and 


io6  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

talk  to  him,   if  you  like.     Or  to  your  friends  the 
Kanes." 

Connor,  the  color  gone  from  his  face  now,  looked 
steadily  down  at  her.  Slowly  he  drew  from  an  inner 
pocket  a  gold-mounted  case  of  alligator  skin  and 
selected  a  fresh  cigar,  lighting  it  on  the  stump  of  the 
old  one.  Finally  he  said : 

"Dix,  I'm  taking  some  rough  talk  from  you.  But 
never  mind — now.  You  say  you  know  where  the  stuff 
is,  but  you  won't  tell  me." 

"Not  now.  I'll  keep  that  information  to  trade 
with,  Tex." 

"Well  and  good.  I'll  tell  you  that  you  can't  get 
it  without  a  little  help  from  me.  And  you're  not  going 
to  get  it.  Tell  me  where  it  is,  and  I'll  put  it  through 
and  split  with  you.  It'll  have  to  be  pretty  quick,  too. 
If  you  won't,  you  don't  get  your  loot.  And  if  you 
give  up  my  boy  Tom — " 

"What'll  you  do,  Tex?"    She  was  faintly  smiling. 

"Oh,  I  won't  shoot  you.  I'll  protect  myself 
better'n  that.  But  I'll  run  you  off  the  coast.  You'll 
have  turned  your  last  card  out  here." 

To  this  she  said  simply  nothing.  For  a  moment 
her  two  eyes  met  his  one  full.  Then  he  strolled  away. 
And  the  day  passed. 

3 

Doane  stood  by  the  rail  in  the  dusk  of  early  evening 
looking  in  through  the  open  doorway.  The  social  hall 
was  gay  with  flags,  the  dragon  of  China  hung  flat 


RESURGENCE  107 

over  the  talking  machine  with  the  American  and  Brit- 
ish colors  draped  on  either  hand.  The  little  teachers 
had  on  their  brightest  and  best.  Miss  Andrews  in 
particular,  wore  a  pink  party  gown  that  might  have 
been  made  by  a  village  dressmaker — or,  more  likely, 
by  herself — and  flushed  prettily  as  she  chatted  with 
young  Braker.  The  men  were  all  in  their  dinner  coats. 

Dixie  Carmichael,  in  the  inevitable  blue  middy 
blouse,  sat  quietly  reading  in  a  corner.  A  strange 
creature,  always  imperturbably  girlish.  Doane  had 
observed  her  casually  on  the  boat  and  about  the  Astor 
House  at  Shanghai,  and  despite  the  curious  tales  that 
drifted  along  the  coast — already  the  girl  had  acquired 
an  almost  legendary  fame — he  had  never  seen  her 
other  than  discreetly  quiet.  Men  who  had  observed 
her  on  the  steamer  from  Hong  Kong  after  the  out- 
raged British  wives  as  good  as  drummed  her  out  of 
town  asserted  that  she  exhibited  not  so  much  as  a 
ruffle  of  the  nerves.  A  girl  without  emotion,  appar- 
ently; certainly  without  a  moral  sense. 

She  had  for  a  time  managed  a  gambling  house  on 
Bubbling  Well  Road,  Shanghai,  but  this  year  seemed 
to  be  more  active  up  Peking  way.  At  least  she  had 
made  several  trips  to  the  north.  There  were  moments 
when  her  thin,  nearly  expressionless  face  bore  a  look 
of  infinite  age ;  yet  she  was  young.  It  would  be  inter- 
esting, he  reflected,  to  know  of  her  home  and  her 
youth,  of  the  remarkable  deficiency  (or  the  equally 
remarkable  gift)  that  had  sent  her  out  alone,  with  her 
hair  down  her  back,  to  pit  her  uncanny  quickness  of 


io8  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

thought  and  her  sordid  purpose  against  the  desperately 
clever  rascals  of  the  coast. 

When  again  he  passed  the  doorway  they  were 
dancing — a  waltz.  Dixie  and  young  Kane  were 
together.  Miss  Means,  primmer  than  ever,  moved 
about  with  a  tall  Australian.  Braker  was  with  little 
Miss  Andrews.  The  others  of  the  younger  men 
danced  humorously  with  one  another.  The  Manila 
Kid  stood  lankily,  gloomily,  by  the  talking  machine, 
sorting  records. 

There  was  a  bustling  outside  the  farther  door; 
musical  voices;  the  shimmering  of  satin  in  the  light; 
and  the  viceroy  came  in,  escorting  his  daughter  and 
attended  by  all  his  suite.  At  the  sight  of  Miss  Hui 
Fei  as  she  appeared  in  the  doorway  and  stepped  lightly 
over  the  sill  Doane  caught  his  breath.  She  wore  an 
American  costume,  a  gown  of  soft  material  in  rose 
color  trimmed  with  silver,  the  stockings  and  little 
slippers  in  silver  as  well.  A  girl  at  any  college  or 
suburban  dance  back  home  might  have  dressed  like 
that.  Her  richly  black  hair  was  parted  on  the  side; 
masses  of  it  waved  carelessly  down  over  her  temples 
and  part  of  the  broad  forehead.  Her  color  was  high, 
her  eyes  were  bright.  The  eagerly  Western  quality  he 
had  sensed  in  her  was  dominant  now,  triumphant  as 
youth  can  be  triumphant. 

Doane,  for  a  moment,  pressed  a  hand  to  his  eyes. 
He  could  not  relate  this  radiantly  Western  girl  with 
the  quaintly  Oriental  figure  he  had  last  seen  by  moon- 
light on  the  boat  deck.  It  was  difficult,  too,  to  under- 


RESURGENCE  109 

stand  her  bright  happiness.  Had  her  insistently  mod- 
ern spirit  prevailed  over  her  father's  resolve  to  die? 
Or  was  she,  after  all,  carried  away  by  girlishly  high 
spirits  at  the  thought  of  a  party?  On  the  latter  pos- 
sibility Doane  set  his  teeth;  it  raised  thoughts  of 
Oriental  fatalism  and  surface  adaptability  that  he 
could  not  face.  Surely  the  girl  who  had  talked  so 
earnestly,  who  had  so  clearly  exhibited  a  Western 
view  of  her  father's  predicament,  was  more  than  Orien- 
tal at  heart. 

The  most  deeply  sobering  thought,  of  course,  was 
that  he  should  so  poignantly  care.  The  mere  sight  of 
her  thrilled  him,  shook  him.  All  night  and  during 
this  day  he  had  been  fighting  the  new  shining  sense 
of  her  in  his  heart ;  it  was  clear  now  that  the  battle  was 
a  losing  one.  It  was  true,  then ;  the  last  broken  shards 
of  his  elaborately  built  up,  wholly  mental  philosophy 
of  life  had  crashed  hopelessly  about  his  ears. 

The  pity  of  it  seemed  to  him,  even  then,  to  be  that 
he  was  possessed  of  such  abounding  vitality  of  body 
and  mind.  He  felt  a  young  man.  He  was  never  ill, 
never  even  tired.  Only  accident,  he  felt,  could  shorten 
his  life.  Certainly  he  wouldn't  take  it  himself ;  he  had 
gone  all  through  that.  He  would  have  to  go  dully  on 
and  on ;  he  was  like  an  engine  that  is  using  but  a  frac- 
tion of  its  proper  power.  He  had  not  known  that  his 
need  was  a  woman  until  he  met  this  woman.  To  no 
other,  he  felt,  could  he  give  the  rich  upwellings  of  emo- 
tion in  his  heart;  and  vital  emotion,  he  had  tragically 
learned  three  years  earlier,  can  not  be  repressed  indef- 


I  io  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

initely.  There  was  a  breaking  point. . .  He  was,  even 
now,  bringing  up  favorable  arguments.  This  young 
woman,  as  she  had  admitted,  like  himself,  stood 
between  the  worlds.  She  could  never  be  happy  in 
China;  hardly  out  of  it.  If....  If....  Thoughts 
came,  bitter  thoughts,  of  his  years,  of  his  poverty. 
The  thing  had  the  grip  of  a  demoniac  possession.  He 
had  seen  other  men  mad  over  the  one  woman,  and  had 
pitied  them ;  but  now  he ....  He  called  himself  sav- 
agely, in  his  heart,  a  fool.  Yet  the  wild  hopes 
mounted. 

The  waltz  was  over.  The  Kid  changed  the  rec- 
ords and  ground  the  machine.  An  interpreter  left 
the  group  of  mandarins  and  spoke  with  one  of  the 
Australians;  led  the  man  back  to  his  excellency.  A 
moment  later  the  music  sounded  again,  and  the  Aus- 
tralian danced  lightly  away  with  Miss  Hui  Fei  in 
what  Doane  had  no  means  of  knowing  was  the  very 
new  one-step.  He  had  never  danced;  plainly  she 
loved  it.  She  moved  like  a  fairy — light,  utterly  grace- 
ful, her  oval  face,  when  she  turned,  flushed  a  little 
and  soberly  radiant. 

Hating  the  man  who  held  her  so  close,  he  turned 
away.  He  did  not  know  that  his  excellency,  glimpsing 
him  outside  there  in  the  shadows,  leaned  forward  and 
bowed;  he  did  not  observe  (or  care)  that  Dixie  Car- 
michael  was  dancing  with  the  German  customs  man, 
while  Rocky  Kane,  suddenly  white,  lighting  one 
cigarette  on  another,  stood  in  a  corner  devouring  with 
his  eyes  Miss  Hui  Fei.  A  little  later,  when  the  young 


RESURGENCE  in 

man  spoke,  there  at  his  side,  he  started;  for  he  had 
heard  no  one  approach.  Rocky  was  hatless;  hair 
rumpled  as  if  he  had  been  running-  nervous  fingers 
through  it,  cheeks  deeply  flushed,  eyes  staring  rather 
wildly.  He  threw  his  cigarette  overboard  and  squarely 
faced  the  huge  man  in  blue. 

"I  don't  know  what  you'll  think  of  me — "  he 
began,  in  a  breathless,  unsteady  voice;  then  his  eyes 
wavered. 

Doane  turned  with  him.  Dixie  Carmichael  stood 
in  the  doorway,  watching  them.  Rocky,  with  a  ner- 
vous gesture,  as  if  he  would  brush  her  away,  looked 
up  again  into  the  stern  older  face.  He  was  plainly 
lost  in  himself,  burning  with  the  confused  fires  of 
youth. 

"I  don't  know  what  you'll  think  of  me — "  he  came 
again  to  a  stop.  Apparently  the  words,  "Mr.  Doane," 
would  have  completed  the  sentence,  but  failed  for  some 
reason  to  find  voice.  Perhaps  it  was  the  habit  of  his 
wealthy  environment  that  restrained  him  even  now 
from  speaking  with  more  than  casual  respect  to  a  uni- 
formed employee  of  a  river  line;  yet,  contradictorily, 

here  he  was,  all  boyish  humility ! "I'm  a  damn 

fool,  of  course,  I  know  that.  But — you've  seen  her." 

Doane  glanced  again  toward  the  door.  Dixie  Car- 
michael had  disappeared. 

"No — not  that  one!"  cried  the  boy  hotly;  then 
"dropped  his  voice.  "The  girl  in  there !  The — princess, 
isn't  she?" 

Doane  inclined  his  head. 


H2  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

"Then  she'd  be  the  one  I — well,  you  remember." 

"She  is  the  same.    The  Princess  Hui  Fei — " 

"Hughie  Fay?    Like  that?" 

"Yes." 

"What  a  lovely  name!....  You — I  know  you 
won't  understand!  It's  so  hard  to — I  am  young,  of 
course.  I've  been  sort  of  in  wrong.  I  guess  you  think 
I'm  a  pretty  wild  lot.  I  seem  to  have  been  trying 
about  everything.  But  until  to-night — oh,  there's  no 
use  pretending  I'm  not  hit  all  of  a  heap.  I  am.  I 
never  saw  anything  like  her — never  in  my  life.  I 
don't  know  what  the  pater  would  say — me  falling  for 
a  Manchu  girl — you  think  I'm  crazy,  don't  you  ?" 

"No." 

"Perhaps  I  am.  My  head's  racing.  Just  watching 
her  in  there  makes  my  pulse  jump.  I  get  bewildered. 
Tell  me — she  was  all  Chinese  the — the  other  time — 
all  painted  up.  Big  head-dress  with  flowers  on  it. 
Why  did  she  do  that?" 

"Out  of  respect  to  her  father.  The  rouge  and  the 
head-dress  were  according  to  Oriental  custom."  He 
looked  directly  down  at  the  boy,  and  added,  deliber- 
ately, "Veneration  of  parents  is  the  finest  thing  in 
Chinese  life.  I  sometimes  think  we  have  nothing  so 
fine  in  America." 

The  boy's  eyes  fell.  He  mumbled,  "Ouch!  You 
landed  there,  I  guess."  Then  he  raised  his  eyes.  "I 
can't  help  myself — whatever  I  am — but  I  can  start 
fresh,  can't  I?  That's  what  I'm  going  to  do,  anyhow 
— start  fresh."  He  squared  himself.  His  lip  quivered. 


RESURGENCE  113 

"Will  you  take  me  in  there  to  the  viceroy,  and  trans- 
late my  apology?" 

Doane  stood  a  moment  in  silence.  Then  he 
replied,  quietly,  "Yes."  And  led  the  way  into  the 
social  hall.  He  found  himself  watching,  like  a  spec- 
tator, the  little  scene ....  the  viceroy  rising,  with  a 
quiet  smile,  a  gentle  old  man,  awaiting  with  perfect 
courtesy  of  bearing  whatever  might  be  forthcoming ; 
Rocky  Kane,  seeming  younger  than  before,  with,  in 
fact,  the  appearance  of  an  excited  boy,  the  wild  look 
still  in  his  eyes  but  the  face  set  with  supreme  deter- 
mination. Doane  observed  now  that  he  had  a  good 
forehead,  wide  and  not  too  high.  The  nose  was 
slightly  aquiline,  like  his  father's.  The  eyes,  so  dark 
now,  were  normally  blue;  the  mouth  sensitive;  the 
skin  fine  in  texture. 

"Tell  him"— thus  the  boy— "tell  him  I  acted  like 
a  dirty  cad,  that  I  know  better,  and — and  ask  his 
pardon." 

Doane  translated  discreetly.  A  dance  was  just 
ending,  and  curious  eyes  were  bent  on  the  group.  The 
mandarins  stood  behind  the  viceroy,  all  gracefully  at 
ease  in  their  rich  robes. 

His  excellency,  without  relaxing  that  smile, 
replied  in  musical  intonation. 

"What  is  it?"  asked  Rocky  Kane,  under  his 
breath,  all  quivering  excitement;  "what  does  he  say?" 

"That  he  accepts  your  apology,  with  appreciation 
of  your  manliness." 


114  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

Young-  Kane's  nervous  frown  relaxed  at  this.  He 
was  pleased. 

"Will  you,"  he  was  saying  now,  "will  you  ask 
if  I  may  dance  with  the  princess?" 

Doane  complied.  He  felt  now  a  strain  of  fineness 
in  this  ungoverned  boy  that  was  oddly  moving  to  his 
own  emotion-clouded  brain ....  Hui  Fei  was  approach- 
ing, the  Australian  at  her  side. 

"He  suggests" — Doane  found  himself  translating 
— "that  you  ask  her.  He  does  not  know  what  engage- 
ments she  may  have  made." 

The  boy  bit  his  lip.  And  then  the  princess  was 
greeting  the  mate.  "It's  nice  to  see  you,  Mr.  Doane," 
she  was  saying.  "I  wondered  if  you  weren't  coming 
to  the  party." 

It  seemed  to  Doane  that  he  could  feel  young 
Kane's  devouring  eyes  fastened  on  her.  The  moment 
had  come  in  which  he  must  act.  The  Australian,  sens- 
ing a  situation,  thanked  the  princess  and  slipped  away. 
Quietly,  Doane  said :  "Miss  Hui  Fei,  this  is  Mr.  Kane,, 
who  has  asked  permission  to  meet  you." 

She  drew  back  a  very  little;  Doane  caught  that; 
yet  the  courtesy  of  her  race  did  not  fail  her.  She 
inclined  her  pretty  head;  even  smiled. 

"Should  I  speak  English?"  asked  the  boy,  out  of 
sheer  confusion;  then:  "Miss  Hui  Fei" — he  was 
white;  the  words  came  slowly,  almost  coldly,  between 
set  teeth — "I  am  sorry  for  my  rotten  behavior  the 
other  night." 

That  was  all.    He  waited.    Miss  Hui's  smile  faded. 


RESURGENCE  115 

No  Oriental  could  have  come  out  so  bluntly  with  it 
She  seemed  to  be  considering  him.  Gradually  the 
smile  returned,,  and  with  it  an  air  of  courteous 
dismissal. 

"I  have  forgotten  it." 

Kane  gathered  his  courage. 

"May  I  have  a  dance  with  you?" 

For  a  moment  the  silence  was  marked.  Perhaps 
Miss  Hui  was  gathering  herself  as  well.  But  it  was 
only  a  moment;  she  spoke,  smiling  as  if  she  were 
happy,  her  manner  gracious,  even  kind :  "I  am  sorry. 
I  have  promise'  every  dance.  The  ladies  are  so  few 
to-nigh'." 

That  was  all.  The  boy  seemed  somewhat  slow  in 
comprehending  it.  He  stood  motionless;  then  the 
color  returned  slowly  to  his  face,  flooding  it.  He 
bowed  to  her  stiffly,  then  to  her  father,  and  rushed 
out  on  deck. 

Miss  Hui  smiled  up  at  the  mate.  "I  have  save' 
the  dance  you  ask',"  she  said  pleasantly.  "It  is  this 
nex'  one,  if  you  don'  mind." 

The  Manila  Kid  adjusted  the  needle  and  released 
the  catch. 

"I'm  sorry,"  said  Doane,  as  they  moved  away,  "I 
don't  dance." 

The  commonplace  .remark  fell  strangely  on  his 
own  ears.  It  could  hardly  be  himself  speaking.  He 
was  all  glowingly  warm  with  impulse,  his  logic  gone. 

"We'll  sit  it  out,"  said  Miss  Hui  pleasantly. 


Ii6  IN  RED  AND  GOLD! 

And  during  the  brief  walk  across  the  room,  beside 
this  buoyantly  graceful  girl,  even  while  aware  of  the 
eyes  upon  him,  he  felt  the  magic  wine  of  youth  thrill- 
ing through  his  arteries.  What  a  fairy  she  was! 
Snatches  of  poetry  came;  one — 

"Were  it  ever  so  airy  a  tread. ..." 

— and  lingered  fragrantly  after  they  were  seated  and 
he  found  himself  looking  down  at  her,  listening  with 
something  of  the  gravity  and  kindliness  of  long  habit 
when  she  so  quickly  spoke. 


CHAPTER  VI 

CONFLAGRATION 

A     BEWILDERED,    crushed    Rocky;   Kane   stood 

^^  tightly  holding  the  rail;  staring  down  at  the 
softly  black  water  that  ran  so  smoothly  along  the  hull 
beneath ;  muttering  in  whispers  that  at  intervals  broke 
out  into  heated  speech.  This  strange  princess  had 
humiliated  him  perfectly,  completely;  there  had  been 
nothing  he  could  say,  nothing  to  do  but  go;  and  she 
had  let  him  go  without  a  look  or  a  further  thought. 
He  told  himself  it  was  unfair.  He  had  swallowed  his 
pride  and  apologized.  Could  a  man  do  more  ? 

But  pressing  upward  through  this  chaotic  mental 
surface  of  hurt  pride  and  insistent  self-justification 
came  an  equally  insistent  memory  of  his  outrageous 
conduct  toward  her.  As  the  moments  passed,  the 
memory  intensified  into  a  painfully  vivid  picture.  His 
native  intelligence,  together  with  the  undeveloped 
decency  that  was  somewhere  within  him,  kept  at  him 
with  dart-like,  stinging  thoughts.  He  had  insulted  not 
only  herself  but  her  race  as  well,  in  assuming  a  ruthless 
right  to  make  free  with  her. 

Then  self-justification  again;  how  could  he  know 
117 


ii8  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

that  she  spoke  English  and  dressed  like  the  girls  back 
home?  Was  it  fair  of  her  to  masquerade  like  that? 

He  was  miserably  wrong,  of  course.  And  his 
nerves  were  terribly  upset.  That  was  at  least  part  of 
the  trouble,  his  nerves ;  he  lighted  a  cigarette  to  steady 
them.  The  match  shook  in  his  hand.  This  nervous 
trembling  had  been  increasing  lately;  he  found  it  an 
alarming  symptom.  Perhaps  the  trouble  was  inherent 
weakness.  Ability  like  his  father's  often  skipped  a 
generation ;  and  character.  Yes,  he  was  weak.  He  had 
failed  at  everything.  His  college  career  was  a  wreck ; 
a  monstrous  wreck,  he  believed,  echoes  from  which 
would  follow  him  through  life.  To  his  incoherent 
mind  it  seemed  that  he  had  about  all  the  vices — drink- 
ing, gambling,  pursuing  helpless  girls,  even  smoking 
opium.  His  one  faith  had  been  money;  but  now  he 
suddenly,  wretchedly,  knew  that  even  the  money  might 
fail  him.  It  was  as  easy  to  toss  away  a  million  as  a 
hundred  on  the  red  or  the  black.  And  then  young 
men  who  wasted  themselves  acquired  diseases  from 
the  terrors  of  which  no  fortune  could  promise  release; 
a  thought  that  had  long  dwelt  uncomfortably  in  a 
sensitive,  deep-shadowed  corner  of  his  brain ....  a 
brain  that  was  racing  now,  beyond  control. 

Her  unfairness  lay  in  so  publicly  snubbing  him. 
Her  father  knew  the  facts,  as  did  Miss  Carmichael, 
and  the  big  mate,  that  old  preacher  with  a  mysterious 
past.  Who  was  he,  anyhow — setting  up  to  regulate 
other  people's  lives? 

Then  rose  among  these  turbulent  thoughts  a  pic- 


CONFLAGRATION  119 

ture  of  the  princess  as  she  was  now,  there  in  the  social 
hall.  Tears  welled  into  his  eyes;  he  brushed  them 
away,  lighted  a  fresh  cigarette  and  deeply  inhaled  the 
smoke.  He  had  rushed  out;  suddenly,  wildly,  he 
desired  to  rush  back.  She  was  beautiful.  She  had 
quaintly  moving  charm.  A  rare  little  lady!  It 
seemed  almost  that  he  might  compel  her  to  listen 
while  he  explained.  But  what  was  it  that  he  was  to 
explain?  That  he  was  some  other  than  the  dirty  sort 
they  all  knew  him  to  be,  that  he  had  proved  himself 
to  be? 

The  wild  thoughts  were  like  a  beating  in  his  brain. 
It  was  his  father's  fault,  this  crazy  nervousness,  and 
his  mother's ....  He  hated  that  big  mate.  Self-pity 
rose  like  a  tidal  wave,  and  engulfed  him.  He  stared 
and  stared  at  the  softly  dark  water.  Beginning  with 
about  his  sixteenth  year  he  had  wrestled  often  with 
the  thought  of  suicide,  as  so  many  sensitive  young 
men  do.  Now  the  water  fascinated  him;  it  was  so 
still,  it  moved  so  resistlessly  on  to  the  sea.  "A  pretty 
easy  way  to  slip  out.  Just  a  little  splash — I  could 
climb  down.  Nobody'd  know.  Nobody'd  care  much 
of  a  damn.  Oh,  the  old  man  would  think  he  cared, 
but  he  wouldn't.  He'll  never  make  a  bank  president 
out  of  me.  And  that's  all  he  wants." 

A  voice,  guardedly  friendly,  said,  "Better  not  let 
yourself  talk  that  way." 

He  turned  with  a  start.  Miss  Carmichael  was 
standing  there  by  the  rail.  So  he  had  talked  aloud 
• — another  unpleasant  symptom. 


120  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

"You — you  saw  what — " 

She  inclined  her  head.  "What's  the  good  of  letting 
it  upset  you?  Lie  down  for  a  while.  A  pipe  or  two 
wouldn't  hurt  you.  You're  nervous  as  a  witch.  It 
would  soothe  you." 

He  stared  at  her. 

"Better  lie  down  anyway,"  she  said,  taking  his 
arm  and  moving  him  toward  his  cabin.  "You  don't 
want  them  to  see  you  like  this." 

He  yielded.  His  will  was  powerless.  He  dropped 
on  the  seat,  while  she  lingered,  almost  sympathetically, 
in  the  doorway,  an  unbelievably  girlish  figure  in  the 
half  light.  Something  of  the  influence  she  had  been 
exerting  on  him — which  had  seemed  to  die  when  Miss 
Hui  Fei  entered  the  social  hall — fluttered  to  life  now. 
'He  found  relief,  abruptly,  in  recklessness. 

"Come  on  in,"  he  said  huskily.  "Have  a  pipe  with 
me!" 

Quietly,  wholly  matter-of-fact,  she  closed  and 
locked  the  door.  "We'll  shut  the  window,  too,  this 
time,"  she  said. 

"You  needn't  turn  on  the  light."  He  was  reach- 
ing for  his  trunk.  "Excuse  me — a  minute !  I  can  see 
all  right.  I  know  just  where  everything  is." 

"Leave  the  trunk  out,"  said  she.  "And  lay  your 
suit-case  on  it.  Then  we  can  put  the  lamp  on  that." 


Miss  Hui  Fei  led  Doane  to  a  seat  under  the  curv- 
ing front  windows. 


CONFLAGRATION  121: 

"We  mus'  talk  as  if  ever'thing  were  ver'  pleasan'." 
The  question  rose  again,  but  without  bitterness  now, 
how  she  could  smile  so  brightly.  "I  have  learn'  some 

more.    It  is  ver'  difficul'  to  tell  you,  but it  is  diffi- 

cul'    to    think,    even so    strange   that    at    firs'    I 

laugh'." ....  Yes,  there  were  tears  in  her  eyes.  But 
how  bravely  she  fought  them  back  and  smiled  again. 
He  felt  his  own  eyes  filling,  and  turned  quickly  to 
the  window;  but  not  so  quickly  that  she  failed  to  see. 
She  was  sensitively  observant,  despite  her  own  trouble. 
For  a  moment,  then,  they  were  silent,  lost  in  a  deep 
common  sympathy  that  was  bread  to  his  starving 
heart. 

It  was  in  that  moment  that  their  little  conspiracy 
nearly  broke  down.  Had  any  of  the  others  in  the  big 
room  looked  just  then,  gossip  would  have  spread 
swiftly;  certainly  sharp-eyed  mandarins  would  have 
found  matter  for  consideration;  for  Hui  Fei  impul- 
sively found  his  hand  as  it  rested  between  them  on 
the  seat,  and  was  met  with  a  quick  warm  pressure. 

And  then,  in  another  moment,  she  was  speaking, 
quite  herself.  "My  maid  has  foun'  out  tha'  they  are 
sending  the  head  eunuch  from  the  Forbidden  City  to 
pur  home.  An'  that  is  agains'  the  law." 

"Of  course,"  said  he.  "Even  the  Old.  Buddha 
never  tried  but  once  to  send  out  a  eunuch  on  govern- 
ment business.  That  was  the  notorious  An  Te-hai. 
And  he  never  returned ;  he  was  caught  in  Shantung — 
in  a  barge  of  state  on  the  Grand  Canal — and  beheaded. 
Even  the  Old  Buddha  couldn't  do  that.  This  woman 


122  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

is  amazing1.  But  of  course  there  is  really  no  govern- 
ment at  Peking  now — only  this  strange  anachronism." 

"He  has  orders  to  seize  all  father's  beautifu'  things 
— the  paintings  an'  stones  an'  carvings." 

"The  rebels  may  catch  him.  They'd  make  short 
work  of  him." 

"I  ask'  about  that.  The  rebels  have  cross'  the 
river  from  Wu  Chang  to  Han  Yang,  but  they  have  not 
yet  reach'  the  railway.  That  comes  into  Hankow  from 
this  side." 

"Even  so,"  he  mused,  "the  train  service  from 
Peking  must  have  broken  down.  Though  they're  run- 
ning troop  trains  south,  of  course." 

"I  haven't  tol'  you  all  of  it."  Her  voice  was  low 
and  unsteady.  "This  eunuch,  Chang  Yuan-fu,  is 
ordered,  by  the  empress,  to  take  me  to  Peking  too. 
They  are  all  whispering  about  it.  The  empress  is 
angry  at  my  foreign  ways,  and  will  marry  me  to  a 
Manchu  duke.  She  di'n'  like  it  when  my  father  tol' 

her  I  mus'  marry  no  man  I  di'n'  choose  myself 1 

think  you  ough'  to  smile." 

Mechanically  he  obeyed. 

"It  seems  almos'  funny,"  murmured  Miss  Hui. 
"Sometimes  I  can  no'  believe  tha'  such  a  thing  could 
happen.  When  I  think  of  America  an'  England  and 
all  the  worl'  we  know  to-day,  I  can  no'  believe  that 
such  wicked  things  can  happen." 

It  was  anything  but  unreal  to  Doane.  He  knew 
too  well  that  America  and  England,  even  all  the 
white  peoples,  make  up  but  a  fraction  of  the  inhabi- 


CONFLAGRATION  123 

tants  of  this  strange  earth.  His  eyes  filled  again  as 
he  considered  the  possible — yes,  the  probable  fate  of 
the  lovely  girl  at  his  side.  In  such  a  time  of  disor- 
ganization the  reckless  Manchu  woman  at  Peking 
could  do  much.  Chang  might  lose  his  head  at  the 
sound  of  gunfire  in  Han  Yang  and  fly  back  to  the 
capital,  or  he  might  not.  A  capable  and  corrupt 
eunuch  would  run  heavy  risks  to  gain  such  a  prize. 
For  a  huge  prize  the  viceroy's  collection  would  indeed 
be;  many  of  the  priceless  stones  and  paintings  would 
never  reach  the  throne. 

The  thought  came  of  trying  to  persuade  her  to  save 
herself;  a  thought  that  was  as  promptly  discarded. 
She  would  not  leave  her  father  while  he  lived.  He, 
of  course,  would  not  take  his  own  life  elsewhere  than 
in  his  ancestral  home.  And  to  that  home,  with  his 
inevitable  escort  of  underlings  and  soldiers,  was 
hurrying — if  not  already  there — this  Chang  Yuan-fu, 
one  of  those  powerfully  venomous  creatures  that  have 
figured  darkly  at  intervals  in  the  history  of  China. 

Doane  spoke  low  and  quickly:  "Can  you  find  out 
when  Chang's  train  left  Peking,  Miss  Hui?" 

"No,  I  have  try  ver'  har'  to  learn.  I  think  they 
don'  know  that.  It  is  so  importan'  to  know  that,  too, 
because  my  father — "  Her  voice  faltered.  Doane 
once  again,  with  a  swift  glance  to  left  and  right,  took 
her  hand  and,  for  a  brief  moment,  gripped  it  firmly. 
"You  haven'  yet  spoken  to  my  father?" 

"Not  yet,  dear  Miss  Hui.  .  .  .you  must  smile!. . . . 
I  have  found  it  very  difficult  to  think  out  a  way  of 


124  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

approaching  him.  Your  father  is  a  great  viceroy.  He 
might  take  it  ill  that  I  should  venture  to  interfere  in 
what  he  would  feel  to  be  the  supreme  sacred  act  of 
his  life.  He  might" — Doane  hesitated — "even  for 
you  he  might  feel  that  he  couldn't  turn  back." 

"I  know,"  she  said,  very  low.  "I  have  thought 
of  tha',  too.  But  they  shall  never  take  me  to  Peking." 

He  understood.  The  suicide  of  girls  as  a  protest 
against  unwelcome  marriage  was  a  commonplace  in 
China.  It  was,  indeed,  for  thousands  the  only  way 
out.  She  knew  that,  of  course.  And  she  spoke  there 
out  of  her  blood. 

"I  will  speak  to-morrow,"  he  murmured.  "Before 
we  reach  Huang  Chau.  We  have  nothing  to  lose.  He 
can  only  rebuff  me." 

He  felt  now  that  in  this  tragic  drama  was  bound  up 
all  that  might  be  left  to  him  of  happiness.  The  guid- 
ing motive  of  his  life  was — there  was  a  divine  reckless- 
ness in  the  thought — to  save  Hui  Fei,  to  make  her 
smile  again,  with  a  happy  heart.  She  whispered  now : 

"Thank  you." 

He  asked  her,  abruptly  changing  his  manner, 
almost  distantly  courteous,  about  her  life  in  an  Ameri- 
can college.  Little  by  little,  as  she  made  the  effort  to 
follow  him  into  this  impersonal  atmosphere,  her 
brightness  returned. 

The  record  was  scraping  its  last.  Applause  came 
from  the  dancers,  in  which  she  joined.  The  Manila 
Kid  wound  the  machine  again,  and  the  dancers  swung 
again  into  motion. 


CONFLAGRATION  125 

"I  am  asking  too  much  of  you,"  she  murmured. 
"But  I  have  been  frighten'.  I  coul'n'  think  wha'  to 
do." 

He  had  to  set  his  teeth  on  the  burning  phrases  that 
rushed  from  his  long  unpractised  heart,  eager  for 
utterance.  "I  will  take  you  back  to  your  father,"  he 
said. 

In  his  mind  it  was  settled.  Whatever  strange 
events  might  lie  before  them,  they  should  not  take  her 
to  Peking.  His  own  life,  as  well  as  hers,  stood  in  the 
way.  It  had  come  to  that  with  him. 


It  was  near  to  midnight  when  the  Yen  Hsin,  on 
advices  from  Hankow,  headed  again  up-stream.  At 
the  first  throb  of  the  engine  the  white  passengers 
stopped  dancing  and  came  out  on  deck.  There  was 
gaiety,  even  a  little  cheering. 

It  was  perhaps  two  hours  later  when  Doane, 
asleep  in  his  cabin,  heard  the  shots,  confused  with  the 
incidents  of  a  dream.  But  at  the  first  screams  of  the 
women  below  decks  he  sprang  from  his  berth.  Some 
one  was  banging  on  his  door;  he  opened;  the  second 
engineer  stood  there,  coatless  and  hatless,  a  revolver 
in  his  hand,  and  a  little  blood  on  his  cheek. 

"All  hell's  broken  loose  below,"  said  the  young 
Scotchman.  "Chiefs  down  there.  I  tried  to  get  to 
him,  but — God,  they're  all  over  the  place — fighting 
one  another." 


126  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

"Who  are,  MacKail?"  Doane  hurriedly  drew  on 
trousers  and  coat,  and  thrust  his  feet  into  his  slippers. 

"The  viceroy's  soldiers.     Revolutionary  stuff." 

Doane  got  his  automatic  pistol  from  a  drawer  in 
the  desk;  quickly  filled  an  extra  clip  with  cartridges; 
went  forward.  The  Scotchman  had  already  gone  aft. 

The  engine  was  still  running,  the  steamer  moving 
steadily  up  the  moonlit  river.  The  uproar  below  decks 
sounded  muffled,  far-away.  It  might  have  been  noth- 
ing more  than  a  little  night  excitement  in  a  village 
along  the  shore.  The  shooting  continued.  Men  were 
shouting.  There  were  more  shrill  screams;  and  then 
splashes  overside.  As  he  hurried  forward,  staring 
over  the  rail,  Doane  caught  a  passing  glimpse  of  a 
face  down  there  in  the  foam  and  a  white  arm.  The 
white  men  were  stumbling  drowsily  out  of  their 
cabins;  he  saw  one  of  the  customs  men,  in  pajamas, 
and  Tex  Connor.  They  hurled  questions  at  him  but 
he  brushed  them  aside. 

Captain  Benjamin  stood  over  the  cringing  pilot 
with  a  revolver. 

"Engine  room  don't  answer!"  he  shouted  coolly 
enough.  "And  we  can't  get  to  it.  Take  MacKail  and 
try  to  get  through.  I'll  make  this  rat  keep  her  in  the 
channel." 

Doane  ran  back.  More  of  the  men  were  out,  talk- 
ing excitedly  together.  He  paused  to  say:  "Get  any 
weapons  you  have,  every  man  of  you,  and  see  that  none 
but  women  get  up  to  this  deck !  Keep  the  men  down !" 

MacKail  stood  at  the  head  of  the  port  after  stair- 


CONFLAGRATION  127 

way,  outside  the  rear  cabins,  a  big  Australian  beside 
him. 

"They're  just  naturally  carving  one  another  up," 
observed  the  Australian. 

''Come,"  said  Doane,  and  went  down  the  steps. 

The  noise  and  confusion  were  great  down  here. 
Women  were  crowding  out  of  the  lower  cabins,  sob- 
bing hysterically,  tearing  their  hair  and  beating  their 
breasts,  crowding  forward  and  aft  along  the  deckway 
or  climbing  awkwardly  over  the  rail  and  slipping  off 
into  the  river. 

Doane  shouted  a  reassuring  word  in  their  own 
tongue;  pointed  to  the  steps;  finally  drew  one  girl 
forcibly  back  from  the  rail  and  started  her  up.  Others 
followed,  screaming  all  the  way.  Still  others  clung  to 
the  white  men. 

Doane  broke  away  and  plunged  into  the  dim 
interior  of  the  boat.  Most  of  the  lights  were  out. 
Dark  figures  were  wrestling.  There  were  grunts, 
groans,  savage  cries  of  rage  and  triumph.  A  huge 
pole-knife  caught  the  light  as  it  swung.  Doane  was 
aware  of  men  breathing  hard  as  they  struggled. 

He  stumbled  over  an  inert  body ;  would  have  fallen 
had  not  the  Australian  caught  him.  A  tall  soldier 
who  lunged  toward  them  with  a  dripping  bayonet  was 
shot  by  MacKail ....  There  were  no  means  here  of 
distinguishing  the  parties  to  this  savage  struggle,  but 
in  the  inner  corridor  it  was  lighter.  Near  at  hand  two 
of  the  republicans — queues  cut  off,  dressed  in  an  indis- 
tinguishable but  odd-appearing  uniform  of  some  light 


128  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

gray  stuff  with  a  white  cloth  tied  about  the  left  arm, 
had  heaped  bodies  across  the  corridor  and  were  shoot- 
ing over  them  at  a  darker  mass  just  forward  of  the 
engine  room. 

Doane  shouted  at  the  republicans,  ordering  them  to 
withdraw.  They  shook  their  heads  angrily.  One, 
even  as  he  tried  to  reply,  sank  into  a  limp  heap  with 
a  dark  stream  trickling  from  a  hole  in  his  forehead. 
His  comrade  bent  low  to  reload  his  rifle.  With  the 
shouting  of  many  hoarse  voices  the  dark  mass  up 
forward  came  charging  down  the  corridor.  Doane 
was  firing  into  them  when  MacKail  and  the  Austra- 
lian caught  his  arm  and  drew  him  back  through  the 
doorway.  From  that  position,  however,  all  three  could 
shoot  the  blue-clad  attackers  as  they  plunged  by  the 
opening.  Then,  however,  they  had  to  defend  them- 
selves. The  soldiers  came  on  by  dozens.  Doane  had 
his  second  clip  of  cartridges  in  his  pistol. 

"Get  back !"  he  shouted  to  the  others.  "Guard  the 
steps — they'll  be  coming  up  for  loot!" 

They  retreated.  Two  bodies  lay  huddled  on  the 
steps  they  had  left  but  a  few  moments  earlier.  A  few 
dead  women  were  on  the  deck  and  one  or  two  men. 

Even  as  they  stepped  over  the  bodies  and  mounted 
to  the  deck  above,  all  three  men,  their  faculties  sharp- 
ened to  a  supernatural  degree  by  the  ugly  thrill  of  com- 
bat, took  in  the  details  of  what  was  evidently  accepted 
among  these  republican  rebels  as  their  uniform — 
a  suit  of  unmistakably  American  woolen  underwear, 
the  drawers  supported  by  bright-colored  American 


CONFLAGRATION  129 

suspenders;  socks  worn  outside  (like  the  suspenders) 
with  garters  that  bore  the  trademark  name  of  an  Amer- 
ican city,  and  finally,  American  shoes.  So  the  enthu- 
siasm of  these  young  revolutionists  for  the  greatest  of 
republics  found  expression!  And  across  the  breast  of 
each,  lettered  on  a  strip  of  white  cloth,  was  the  inscrip- 
tion that  Sun  Shi-pi  had  so  glibly  translated  as  "Dare 
to  Die."  Sun  must  have  brought  along  these  sup- 
posedly Western  uniforms  in  his  pedler's  trunks. 

It  was  never  to  be  known  what  surprising  inci- 
dents had  preceded  this  sudden  slaughter.  The  chief 
engineer  might  have  told,  but  his  mutilated  body 
Doane  found,  on  his  second  attempt  to  get  through, 
lying  just  across  the  sill  of  the  engine  room,  as  if  he 
had  been  stepping  out  to  reason  with  them. 

The  entire  battle  lasted  barely  half  an  hour.  It 
was,  for  the  white  folk,  a  period  of  confusion  and 
terror.  Toward  the  end,  the  blue  men,  utter  outlaws 
now,  made  rush  after  rush  up  the  various  stairways 
and  ladders,  only  to  be  fought  back  at  every  point  by 
the  white  men  and  the  few  surviving  officers  of  his 
excellency's  force.  They  were  like  the  most  primitive 
savages,  knowing  neither  fear  nor  reason.  The  blood- 
lust  that  at  times  captures  the  spirit  of  this  normally 
phlegmatic  and  reasonable  people  drove  them  for  the 
time  to  the  point  of  madness. 

At  last,  however,  they  drew  off  below.  Two  of 
the  boats  were  within  their  reach.  These  they  low- 
ered, and  despite  the  speed  of  steamer  and  current, 
though  not  without  evident  loss  of  life,  they  got  them 


130  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

over,  tumbled  into  them,  and  fell  away  into  the  night 
astern.  Then  for  the  first  and  last  time  this  night 
Doane  saw  the  redoubtable  Tom  Sung.  He  stood  in 
the  nearer  boat,  brandishing  a  rifle  and  screeching  wild 
phrases  in  Chinese. 

MacKail  took  the  engine  room.  Captain  Benja- 
min, still,  grimly,  pistol  in  hand,  held  the  pilot  to  his 
task.  There  was  no  crew  to  clean  the  shambles  below 
decks,  yet  with  the  few  loyal  soldiers  who  had  man- 
aged to  hide  away  now  at  the  furnaces,  the  steamer 
wound  her  way  steadily  up-stream. 

Doane  found  what  had  once  been  the  earnest  Sun 
Shi-pi  in  the  starboard  corridor,  below.  On  his  body 
were  the  uniform,  white  brassard  and  motto  of  the 
"Dare  to  Dies."  They  had  beheaded  him. 

The  passengers,  clad  and  half  clad,  nervous,  talk- 
ative, hung  about  the  decks.  The  two  teachers,  curi- 
ously self-possessed,  sat  side  by  side  at  the  dining 
table.  From  the  quarters  of  his  excellency,  aft,  came 
the  continuous  sound  of  women  moaning  and  wailing. 

It  was,  to  the  eye,  but  a  river  steamer  plowing 

up-stream  in  the  moonlight.  But  to  the  senses  of 
those  aboard  the  situation  was  a  nightmare,  already 
an  incredible  memory  while  sleep-drugged  eyes  were 
slowly  opening. . . .  To  the  mighty  river  it  was  but 
one  more  incident  in  the  vivid,  often  bloody  drama  of 
a  long-suffering,  endlessly  struggling  people. . . . 

In  his  spacious  cabin,  his  eyes  shaded  from  the  elec- 
tric light  by  a  screen  of  jade  set  in  tulip  wood,  dressed 
in  his  robes  of  ceremony,  wearing  the  ruby-crowned 


CONFLAGRATION  131 

hat  of  state  with  the  down-slanting  peacock  feather, 
his  excellency  sat  quietly  reading  the  precepts  of 
Chuang  Tzii. 

"Hui  Tzu  asked,"  (he  read)  'Are  there,  then,  men 
who  have  no  passions?  If  he  be  a  man,  how  can  he 
be  without  passions?' 

'  'By  a  man  without  passions,'  replied  Chuang 
Tzu,  'I  mean  one  who  permits  neither  evil  nor  good 
to  disturb  his  inner  life,  but  accepts  whatever  comes. 
....  The  pure  men  of  old  neither  loved  life  nor  hated 
death.  Cheerfully  they  played  their  parts,  patiently 
awaited  the  end.  This  is  what  is  called  not  to  lead 
the  heart  away  from  Tao. ...  The  true  sage  ignores 
God;  he  ignores  man;  he  ignores  a  beginning;  he 
ignores  matter;  he  accepts  life  as  it  may  be  and  is  not 
overwhelmed.  If  he  fail,  what  matters  it?  If  he  suc- 
ceed, is  it  not  that  he  was  provided  through  no  effort 
of  his  own  with  the  energy  necessary  to  success..,.. 
The  life  of  man  passes  like  a  galloping  horse,  changing 
at  every  turn.  What  should  he  do;  what  should  he 
not  do  ?  It  passes  as  a  sunbeam  passes  a  small  opening 
in  a  wall — here  for  a  moment,  then  gone ....  Let 
knowledge  stop  at  the  unknowable.  That  is 
perfection.' ' 

4 

It  is  to  be  doubted  if  even  Doane  gave  regard  at 
the  moment  to  the  possible  origin  of  the  fire.  It  had 
spread  through  two  or  three  of  the  upper  cabins  by 
way  of  the  ventilating  grills  and  was  roaring  out 


132  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

through  a  doorway  by  the  time  he  heard  the  new  out- 
cry and  ran  to  the  spot  The  white  men  were  rushing 
about.  Rocky  Kane,  collarless,  disheveled,  was  fum- 
bling ineffectually  at  the  emergency  fire  hose;  him 
Doane  pushed  aside.  But  the  flames  spread  amaz- 
ingly; worked  through  the  grill-work  from  cabin  to 
cabin ;  soon  were  licking  at  the  walls  and  furniture  of 
the  social  hall. 

Doane  left  Dawley  Kane  and  Tex  Connor — an 
oddly  matched  couple — manning  the  hose,  others  at 
work  with  the  chemical  extinguishers,  while  he  went 
forward  through  the  thickening  smoke  to  the  bridge. 

Captain  Benjamin  said,  huskily,  almost  apologet- 
ically— his  eyes  red  and  staring,  his  face  haggard :  "I'm 
beaching  her." 

And  in  another  moment  she  struck,  where  the 
channel  ran  close  under  an  island. 

Lowering  the  boats  without  a  crew  proved  diffi- 
cult. Already  the  fire  had  reached  those  forward. 
Doane,  the  other  mate  and  MacKail  did  what  they 
could.  The  Chinese  women  crowded  hither  and 
thither,  screaming,  rendering  order  impossible.  In  the 
confusion  one  boat  drifted  off  with  only  Connor,  the 
Manila  Kid,  and  Miss  Carmichael. 

Captain  Benjamin  was  cut  off  by  the  quick  progress 
of  the  flames.  The  whole  forward  end  of  the  cabin 
structure  was  now  a  roaring  furnace,  fortunately 
working  forward  on  the  down-stream  breeze  rather 
than  aft.  The  flames  blazed  from  moment  to  moment 
higher;  sparks  danced  higher  yet;  the  heat  was 


CONFLAGRATION  133 

intense.  Doane  sent  the  viceroy  and  his  suite  below, 
aft,  where  the  deck  was  still  strewn  with  bodies  and 
slippery  with  blood.  With  three  available  boats,  fight- 
ing1 back  the  crowding  women  and  the  more  excitable 
among  his  excellency's  secretaries,  he  sent  ashore,  first 
the  women,  then  his  excellency  and  the  men.  Hui  Fei 
— she  had  slipped  hastily  into  the  little  Chinese  costume 
she  wore  at  their  midnight  talk,  and  had  thrown  about 
it  an  opera  cloak  from  New  York — went  in  one  of 
the  first  boats;  Doane  himself  handed  her  in.  The 
two  teachers,  pale,  very  composed,  followed.  At  the 
oars  were  two  of  the  customs  men,  faces  streaked 
with  grime  and  sweat. 

To  his  excellency,  as  the  last  boats  got  away,  Doane 
said :  "I  wrill  follow  you  soon.  I  must  look  once  more 
for  the  captain." 

"I  will  send  back  a  boat,"  said  the  viceroy. 

Doane  ran  up  to  the  upper  and  promenade  decks. 
There  was  no  sound  save  the  roaring  and  crackling  of 
the  fire.  There  seemed  no  chance  of  getting  forward. 
In  the  large  after  cabin  stood  the  six-fold  Ming  screen. 
Quickly  he  folded  it ;  there  seemed  a  chance  of  getting 
it  ashore.  He  thought,  with  a  passing  regret,  of  the 
pi  of  jade;  but  there  was  no  reaching  his  own  cabin 
now.  He  stepped  out  on  deck.  There,  clear  aft,  lean- 
ing against  the  cabin  wall,  stood  Rocky  Kane,  like  a 
man  half  asleep,  rubbing  his  eyes;  and  crouching 
against  his  knee,  clinging  to  his  hand,  was  the  little 
princess  in  her  gay  golden  yellow  vest  over  the  flow- 
ered skirt  and  her  quaint  hood  of  fox  skin. 


134  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

Doane  caught  the  young  man's  shoulder;  swung 
him  about;  looked  closely  into  the  dull  eyes  with  the 
tiny  pupils. 

"So!"  he  cried,  "that  again,  eh!" 

"I  can't  understand" — thus  Rocky — "I  don't  see 
how  it  could  have  happened.  It  couldn't  have  been 
my  fault." 

Doane  saw  now  that  his  head  had  been  burned 
above  one  ear ;  and  the  hand  that  pressed  his  face  was 
blistered  white. 

"It  wasn't  my  fault !  I  found  myself  out  on  deck. 
I  tried  to  get  the  hose." 

"Yes,  I  saw  you.    Quick — get  below." 

Doane  tenderly  lifted  the  little  princess. 

Rocky  was  still  incoherently  talking;  promising 
reform ;  blaming  himself  in  the  next  breath  after  hotly 
defending  himself.  His  voice  was  somewhat  thick. 
He  was  drowsy — swayed  and  stumbled  as  he  moved 
toward  the  stairs. 

Doane,  speaking  gently  in  Chinese  to  the  child, 
stood  a  moment  considering.  The  heat  was  becoming 
intolerable.  It  wouldn't  do  to  keep  the  little  one  here. 
He  carried  her  down  the  stairs. 

Below,  the  boy  faced  him.  "I'm  no  good,"  he 
whimpered.  "I  can't  wake  up.  Hit  me — do  some- 
thing— I  won't  be  like  this." 

Doane  considered  him  during  a  brief  instant.  They 
were  standing  under  a  light,  their  feet  slipping  on  the 
deck,  bodies  lying  about.  With  the  flat  of  his  hand, 
then,  Doane  struck  the  side  of  the  boy's  head  that  was 


CONFLAGRATION  135 

not  burned ;  struck  harder  than  he  meant,  for  the  boy 
went  down,  and  then,  after  sprawling  about,  got  mut- 
tering to  his  feet. 

"It's  all  right!"  he  cried  unsteadily.  "I  asked  you 
to  do  it.  I'm  going  to  get  hold  of  myself.  I've  been 
no  good — rotten.  I've  touched  bottom.  But  I'm  going 
to  fight  it  out — get  somewhere."  His  egotism,  even 
now,  amazingly  held  him.  Even  as  he  spoke  he  was 
dramatizing  himself.  But  his  pupils  were  widening  a 
little;  he  was  in  earnest,  crying  bitterly  out  of  a 
drugged  mind  and  conscience.  And  Doane,  looking 
down  at  him,  felt  stirring  in  his  heart,  though  curiously 
mixed  with  a  twinge  of  jealousy  for  his  youth  and 
the  hopes  before  him,  something  of  the  sympathy  his 
long  deep  experience  had  instilled  there  toward  blindly 
struggling  young  folk.  Boys,  after  all,  were  normally 
egotists.  And  Heaven  knew  this  boy  had  so  far  been 
given  no  sort  of  chance! 

Doane  led  the  way  clear  aft.  The  heat  was  terrific. 
From  a  row  of  fire  buckets  he  sprinkled  the  little 
princess;  bathed  her  temples.  The  water  was  warm, 
but  it  helped. 

Young  Kane,  with  a  nervous  movement,  suddenly 
picked  up  one,  then  another,  of  the  buckets  and  dashed 
them  over  himself.  Distinctly  he  was  coming  to  life. 
"We  may  never  come  out  of  this,  Mr.  Doane,"  he  said. 
"It's  a  terrible  fix."  More  and  more,  as  he  came 
slowly  awake,  he  was  dramatizing  the  situation  and 
himself.  "But  I  want  to  say  this.  I've  never  known 
a  man  like  you.  You're  fine — you're  big — you've 


136  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

helped  me  as  no  one  else  has.  I'll  never  be  like  you — 
it  isn't  in  me.  I've  already  gone  as  close  to  hell  as  a 
man  can  go  and  perhaps  still  save  himself — ' 

"Can  you  swim?"  asked  Doane  shortly. 

"I — why,  yes,  a  little.  I'm  not  what  you'd  call  a 
strong  swimmer." 

Doane  was  wetting  the  princess's  face  and  his  own. 
There  would  be  little  time  left.  There  was  smoke  now. 
He  found  a  slight  difficulty  in  breathing;  evidently  the 
fire  had  eaten  through,  forward,  to  the  lower  decks. 

"They  won't  be  able  to  get  a  boat  back  here,"  he 
said,  and  quietly  pointed  out  the  still  blazing  pieces 
of  board  that,  after  whirling  into  the  air,  were  drift- 
ing by.  A  terrific  blast  of  heat  swept  about  them, 
indicating  a  change  of  wind. 

"Wait  here  a  moment  for  me,"  he  added.  "I  must 
make  one  more  effort  to  find  Captain  Benjamin.  If 
that  fails,  we  can  swim  ashore." 


He  tried  working  his  way  forward  when  the  heat 
proved  too  great  in  the  corridor,  climbing  out  on  the 
windward  side  of  the  hull.  But  the  flames  were  eating 
steadily  aft;  he  could  not  get  far.  Beaten  back,  he 
returned  to  the  stern  to  discover  that  the  child  and 
Rocky  Kane  were  gone.  After  a  moment  he  saw 
them  in  the  water,  a  few  rods  away,  first  a  gleam  of 
yellow  that  would  be  the  jacket  of  the  little  princess, 
then  their  two  heads  close  together. 


CONFLAGRATION  137 

He  lowered  himself  down  a  boat-line  and  swam 
after  them.  In  the  water  this  giant  was  as  easily  at 
home  as  in  any  form  of  exercise  on  land.  Within  the 
year  he  had  swum  at  night,  alone,  for  the  sheer  vital 
pleasure  the  use  of  his  strength  brought  him,  the  nine 
miles  from  Wusung  to  Shanghai — slipping  between 
junks  and  steamers,  past  the  anchored  war-ships  and 
a  great  P.  &  O.  liner  from  Bombay.  The  water  was 
cool,  refreshing.  He  stretched  his  full  length  in  it, 
rolling  his  face  under  as  one  arm  and  then  the  other 
reached  out  in  slow  powerful  strokes. 

Young  Kane  was  having  no  easy  time  of  it.  He 
was  clearly  out  of  wind.  And  the  child  whimpered  as 
she  clung  tightly  about  his  neck. 

"I  gave  you  up,"  he  sputtered  weakly.  Then 
added,  with  an  evidence  of  spirit  that  Doane  found 
not  displeasing:  "No,  don't  take  her,  please!  Just 
steady  me  a  little."  He  was  struggling  in  short 
strokes,  splashing  a  good  deal.  "We  ought  to  touch 
bottom  now  pretty  quick." 

Sampans  and  the  boats  of  the  cormorant  fishers 
were  edging  into  the  wide  circle  of  light  about  the 
steamer.  Along  the  shore  of  the  island  clustered  the 
groups  of  mandarins,  their  silk  and  satin  robes  forming 
a  bright  spot  in  the  vivid  picture. 

Doane  found  the  sand  then;  walked  a  little  way 
and  helped  the  nearly  exhausted  boy  to  his  feet. 

"They're  coming  down  the  shore,"  said  Rocky, 
trying,  without  great  success,  to  speak  casually. 

Doane  looked  up  and  saw  them  running — white 


138  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

men,  Chinese  servants,  mandarins  holding  up  their 
robes,  women,  and  last,  walking  rapidly,  his 
excellency. 

It  was  Hui  Fei,  throwing  off  her  cloak  and  running 
lightly  ahead,  who  took  the  frightened  child  from 
young  Kane's  arms  and  carried  her  tenderly  up  the 
bank.  There  as  the  attendants  gathered  anxiously 
about  them,  she  tossed  the  child  high,  petted  her, 
kissed  her,  until  the  tears  gave  place  to  laughter.  The 
tall  eunuch  wrapped  the  little  princess  then  in  his  own 
coat ;  and  Hui  Fei  accepted  the  opera  cloak  that  trans- 
formed her  again  in  an  instant  from  a  slimly  quaint 
Manchu  girl  to  a  young  woman  of  New  York. 

Doane  stood  by.  Toward  him  she  did  not  look. 
But  to  Rocky  Kane,  who  lay  on  the  bank,  she  turned 
with  bright  eagerness.  He  got,  not  without  effort,  to 
his  feet. 

Smiling — happily,  it  seemed  to  the  bewildered, 
brooding  Doane — she  gave  him  her  hand ;  led  him  to 
meet  her  father. 

"You  have  met  Mr.  Kane/'  she  said.  "It  was  he 
who  save'  little  sister.  He  risk'  his  life  to  bring  her 
here,  father." 

Rocky,  throwing  back  his  hair  and  brushing  the 
water  from  his  eyes,  stood,  his  sensitive  face  working 
nervously,  very  straight,  very  respectful,  and  took  the 
hand  of  the  viceroy. 

There  was,  then,  manhood  in  him.  The  viceroy 
recognized  the  fact  in  his  friendly  smile.  Hui  Fei 
plainly  recognized  it  as  she  walked,  chatting  brightly, 


CONFLAGRATION  139 

at  his  side,  while  he  bent  on  her  a  gaze  of  boyish 
adoration. 

As  for  Doane,  he  moved  away  unobserved; 
dropped  at  length  on  a  knoll,  rested  his  great  head  on 
his  hands,  and  gazed  out  at  the  blazing  steamer.  She 
would  soon  be  quite  gone.  Poor  Benjamin  was  gone 
already;  a  strange  little  man,  one  of  the  many  that 
drift  through  life  without  a  sense  of  direction,  always 
bewildered  about  it,  always  hoping  vaguely  for  some 
better  lot.  It  had  been  a  tragic  night ;  and  yet  all  this 
horror  would  soon  seem  but  an  incident  in  the  spread- 
ing revolution.  It  had  always  been  so  in  China.  In 
each  rebellion,  as  in  the  mighty  conquests  of  the  Mon- 
gols and  the  Manchus,  death  had  stalked  everywhere 
with  a  casual  terribleness.  Life  meant,  at  best,  so 
little.  Genghis  Khan's  men  had  boasted  of  slaying 
twenty  millions  in  the  northwestern  provinces  alone 
within  the  span  of  a  single  decade.  The  new  trouble 
must  inevitably  run  its  course;  and  what  a  course  it 
might  prove  to  be !  From  the  mere  effort  to  face  this 
immediate  future  Doane  found  his  mind  recoiling; 
much  as  strong  minds  were  to  recoil,  only  three  years 
later,  when  the  German  army  should  march  through 
Belgium, 

He  gave  up  that  problem,  came  down  to  the  par- 
ticular thought  of  this  swiftly  growing  new  love  that 
had  stolen  into  his  heart.  The  hope  of  personal  hap- 
piness had  passed  now.  Self  seemed,  like  the  life  to 
which  it  so  eagerly  clung,  not  to  matter.  Instead  that 
hope  was  growing  into  a  profound  tenderness  toward 


140  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

the  girl.  She  was,  after  all — the  thought  came  start- 
lingly — about  the  age  of  his  own  daughter,  Betty, 
whom  he  had  not  seen  during  these  three  strange 
years.  Betty  and  her  journalist  husband  would  be 
somewhere  in  Turkestan  now;  he  was  studying  cen- 
tral Asia  for  a  book,  she  sketching  the  native  types. 
For  a  long  time  no  letter  had  come. ...  It  was  a  fine 
experience,  this  unbidden  stir  of  the  emotions,  this 
thrill.  There  was  mystery  in  it,  and  wonder.  Merely 
to  have  that  almost  youthful  responsiveness  still  at 
call  within  his  breast  was  an  indication  that  life  might 
yet  hold,  even  for  him,  the  derelict,  rich  promise.  And 
it  was  a  reminder,  now,  to  his  clearing  brain  that  his 
life  must  be  service.  He  must  find  terms  on  which 
to  offer  himself,  his  gifts.  His  spirit  had  been 
molded,  after  all,  to  no  lesser  end. 

The  viceroy  drew  away  then  from  the  group  about 
the  child;  came  deliberately  along  the  bank.  The 
increasing  tenderness  Doane  felt  toward  Hui  Fei 
reached  also  to  her  father,  who  was  facing  with  such 
fine  dignity  the  grim  ending  of  a  richly  useful  life. 
Now,  perhaps,  he  could  plead  with  him  for  the  daugh- 
ter's sake.  Somehow,  certainly,  happiness  must  be 
found  for  her.  In  pleading  he  would  be  serving  her. 

His  brain  was  swinging  into  something  near  bal- 
ance ;  it  was,  after  all,  a  good  brain,  trained  to  function 
clearly,  mellowed  through  patient  years  of  unhappi- 
ness.  It  would  help  him  now  to  fight  for  the  girl,  to 
save  her,  if  he  might,  from  the  dark  ways  of  the  For- 
bidden City.  She  called  herself  so  naively  an  "Amer- 


CONFLAGRATION  141 

ican."    The  West  had  thrilled  her.     She  must  not  be 
given  over  to  the  eunuch,  Chang. 

So,  even  as  he  contrived  a  sort  of  self-control, 
even  as  he  determined  to  forget  his  own  little  moment 
of  romantic  hopefulness,  the  lover  within  him  stood 
triumphant  over  all  his  other  selves. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  INSCRUTABLE  WEST 

r\OANE  knew  nothing  of  the  dignified  figure  he 
^^  presented  as  he  took  the  viceroy's  hand,  a  pro- 
foundly sobered  giant,  his  huge  frame  outlined  beneath 
his  wet  garments  like  a  Greek  statue  of  an  athlete. 

"You  have  helped  to  save  the  life  of  my  child, 
Griggsby  Doane" — thus  his  excellency,  in  what  proved 
to  be  a  little  set  speech — "and  with  all  my  heart  I 
thank  you.  I  am  old.  Little  time  is  left  to  me.  But 
life  follows  upon  death.  Death  is  the  beginning  of 
life.  It  has  been  said  by  Chuang  Tzii  that  the  per- 
sonal existence  of  man  results  from  convergence  of 
the  vital  fluid,  and  with  its  dispersion  comes  what  we 
term  death.  Therefore  all  things  are  one.  All  vitality 
exists  in  continuing  life.  And  I,  when  what  I  have 
thought  of  as  my  self  arrives  at  dispersion,  shall  live 
on  in  my  children.  My  words  are  inadequate.  My 
debt  to  you  is  beyond  my  power  to  repay.  Command 
me.  I  am  your  servant." 

Doane  bowed,  hearing  the  words,  catching  some- 
thing of  the  warm  gratitude  in  the  heart  of  the  old 
man,  yet  at  the  same  moment  flogged  on  to  action  by 

142 


THE  INSCRUTABLE  WEST  143' 

the  sense  of  passing  time  and  present  opportunity.  It 
was  no  simple  matter,  it  seemed,  to  approach  this  sea- 
soned, calmly  determined  mind  regarding  the  final 
personal  matter  of  life  and  death.  But  he  plunged  at 
it;  stating  simply  that  he  had  heard  the  gossip  of  the 
impending  tragedy,  and  that  in  conversing  with  the 
lovely  Hui  Fei,  who  was  in  obvious  difficulty  in  exist- 
ing between  the  two  greatest  civilizations  without  a 
solid  footing  in  either,  he  could  not  bear  to  think  of 
her  possible  fate. 

Kang  Yu  listened  attentively. 

"Your  Excellency,"  Doane  pressed  on,  "it  is  not 
right  that  you  should  listen  to  the  command  of  a 
decadent  throne.  Forgive  my  frankness,  my  presump- 
tion, but  I  must  say  this!  True,  you  are  a  Manchu. 
While  this  revolution  continues  it  will  be  difficult  for 
you.  But  before  another  year  shall  have  gone  by  there 
will  be  a  new  China.  The  bitter  animosities  of  to-day 
will  pass.  Though  a  Manchu,  your  wise  counsel  will 
be  needed.  Your  knowledge  of  the  Western  World 
will  temper  the  over-emphatic  policies  of  the  young 
hot-heads  from  the  universities  of  Japan." 

The  viceroy  considered  this  appeal  during  a  long 
moment;  then,  soberly,  he  looked  up  into  the  massive, 
strongly  lined  face  of  the  white  man  and  asked,  simply : 
"But  what  would  you  have  me  do,  Griggsby 
Doane  ?" 

"Your  Excellency  knows  of  the  plan  to  seize  your 
property  ?" 

Kang  inclined  his  head. 


144  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

"If  you  go  on  to  your  home,  it  may  be  that  every- 
thing will  be  taken,  even  the  money  on  your  person." 

Kang  bowed  again. 

"Then,  Your  Excellency,  why  not  now — while  you 
yet  have  the  means  to  do  so — escape  down  the  river 
with  your  daughter  and  myself?  Can  you  not  trust 
yourself  and  her  in  my  hands?  I  will  find  means  to 
convey  you  safely  to  Shanghai — perhaps  to  Japan  or 
Hong  Kong — where  you  will  be  secure  until  further 
plans  may  be  laid." 

"Griggsby  Doane,"  replied  the  viceroy  with  simple 
candor,  "you  speak  indeed  as  a  friend.  And  I  would 
be  false  to  the  blood  that  flows  in  my  veins  did  I  not 
prize  the  friendship  of  man  for  man,  second  only  to 
the  love  of  a  son  for  a  parent,  above  every  other  qual- 
ity in  life.  Friendship  is  most  properly  the  theme  of 
many  of  the  noblest  poems  in  our  language.  It  is 
to  us  more  than  your  people,  who  place  so  strong  an 
emphasis  on  love  between  the  sexes,  can  perhaps  bring 
themselves  to  understand.  And  therefore,  Griggsby 
Doane,  your  feeling  toward  myself  and  my  daughter 
moves  my  heart  more  deeply  than  I  can  express  to  you. 

"It  is  not  surprising  that  news  of  my  sorrow — of 
this  sad  ending  that  is  set  upon  my  long  life — should 
have  reached  you.  But  since  you  know  so  much,  I 
will  tell  you,  as  friend  to  friend,  more.  Do  you  know 
why  this  sentence  has  been  passed  upon  me?  It  is 
because  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  obey  the  order  of 
the  throne  that  the  republican  agitator,  Sun  Shi-pi 
who  had  sought  sanctuary  at  my  yamen  in  Nanking 


THE  INSCRUTABLE  WEST  145 

should  be  at  once  beheaded.  Instead  I  sent  for  Sun 
Shi-pi  to  counsel  him.  I  permitted  him  to  go  to 
Japan  on  condition  that  he  engage  in  no  conspiracies 
and  that  he  remain  away.  Instead  of  complying  with 
my  condition  he  hastened  to  organize  revolutionary 
propaganda.  He  returned  to  China,  appeared  in  dis- 
guise on  the  steamer  that  is  burning  out  yonder,  and 
is  now  dead,  there,  in  his  republican  uniform." 

So  his  information  was  complete!  A  picture  rose 
in  Doane's  mind  of  the  headless  trunk  of  Sun  Shi-pi 
amid  the  horrors  of  the  lower  deck. 

His  excellency  continued :  "I  was  denounced  at  the 
Forbidden  City  as  a  traitor.  The  sentence  of  death 
followed,  in  the  form  of  an  edict  from  the  empress 
dowager  in  the  name  of  the  young  emperor.  Were  I 
now  to  follow  Sun  Shi-pi  into  exile  in  a  foreign  land 
I  would  mark  myself  for  all  time  as  a  traitor  indeed; 
as  one  who,  while  sharing  as  an  honored  viceroy  the 
prosperity  and  dignity  of  the  reigning  dynasty,  con- 
spired toward  its  downfall." 

"But,  Your  Excellency,  the  empress  dowager  and 
the  young  emperor  no  longer  speak  with  the  voice  of 
the  Chinese  people." 

"That  could  make  no  difference,  Griggsby  Doane. 
By  edict  of  the  Yellow  Dragon  Throne  of  Imperial 
China  I  have  been  instructed  to  go  to  my  ancestors. 
My  allegiance  is  only  to  that  throne.  I  will  obey. . . . 
Already,  Griggsby  Doane,  you  have  done  for  me  more 
than  one  can  ever  demand  of  a  friend.  And  yet 
one  more  demand  I  must  make  upon  you.  There  la 


146  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

no  other  to  whom  I  can  turn ;  I  have  no  other  friend 
to-night.  Within  a  short  time  my  secretaries  will 
secure  a  launch  or  a  junk  to  convey  us  to  my  home 
near  Huang  Chau.  Will  you  come  with  us  there?" 

Doane,  surprised,  bowed  in  assent. 

"Thank  you.  The  gratitude  of  myself  and  all  my 
family  and  friends  will  remain  with  you.  You  are  a 
princely  man ....  Until  later,  then,  good  night, 
Griggsby  Doane." 

He  was  gone. 

Doane  walked  farther  along  the  bank;  stood  for 
a  time  absorbed  in  thought  that  led,  at  length,  to  what 
seemed  a  new  ray  of  light  in  the  darkness  that  was 
his  mind.  And  he  strode  back,  hunting  in  this  group 
and  that  for  Dawley  Kane.  That  man  had  offered 
help.  Now  he  could  give  it. 


Dawley  Kane,  fully  dressed,  unruffled,  quietly 
smoking  a  cigar  and  looking  through  a  pocket  note- 
book by  the  light  from  the  river,  seemed  a  note  of 
sanity  in  an  unbelievably  confused  world.  To  him, 
apparently,  the  nightmare  of  fighting  and  slaughter  on 
the  steamer,  like  the  fire,  were  but  incidents.  The 
only  evidence  the  man  gave  out  of  quickened  nerves 
was  that  he  talked  a  little  more  freely  than  usual.  To 
Doane  he  presented  a  surface  as  clear  and  hard  as 
polished  crystal,  impenetrable,  in  a  sense  repelling,  yet, 
as  we  say,  a  gentleman. 


THE  INSCRUTABLE  WEST  147 

They  even  chatted  casually,  as  men  will,  standing 
there  looking  out  at  the  fire  (which  now  had  reached 
the  stern  and  eaten  down  to  the  lower  decks,  inciner- 
ating alike  the  bodies  of  men  who  had  died  for  faith 
and  for  lust)  and  at  the  wide  circle  of  light  on  the 
rim  of  which  floated  the  vulture-like  boats  of  the 
rivermen.  Doane  forced  himself  into  the  vein  of  the 
man's  interest;  riding  roughshod  over  a  desperate 
sense  of  unreality.  For  he  knew  that  the  great  mas- 
ters of  capital  were  often  proud  and  even  finicky  men 
who  must  be  approached  with  skill.  They  were  kings ; 
must  be  dealt  with  as  kings. 

Kane  was  interested  to  learn  what  relation  the 
fight  below  decks  might  have  to  the  rebellion  up  the 
river.  That,  clearly,  was  characteristic  of  the  man — 
the  impersonal  gathering  in  and  relating  of  observable 
data.  His  interest  was  deeper  in  the  agriculture  and 
commerce  of  the  immense  Yangtze  basin,  to  which  sub- 
ject he  easily  passed.  His  questions  came  out  of  a 
present  fund  of  knowledge — questions  as  to  the  speed, 
cargo-capacity  and  operation-cost  of  the  large  junks 
that  plied  the  river  by  thousands,  as  to  the  cost  of 
employing  Chinese  labor  and  the  average  capacity  of 
the  coolie.  He  knew  all  about  the  slowly  developing 
railroads  of  North  and  Central  China;  commented  in 
passing  on  the  surprising  profits  of  the  young 
Hankow-Peking  line ....  He  seemed  to  Doane  to  have 
in  his  mind  a  map  or  diagram  of  a  huge,  profit- 
making  industrial  world,  to  which  he  added  such  bits 
of  line  or  color  as  occurred  in  the  answers  to  his 


148  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

questions.  But  he  gave  out  no  conclusions,  only  ques- 
tions. Famines,  other  wide-spread  suffering  so 
tragically  common  in  the  Orient,  interested  him  only 
as  an  impairment  of  trade  and  industrial  man  power. 
The  opium  habit  he  viewed  as  an  economic  problem. 

Doane,  settling  doggedly  to  his  purpose,  found 
himself  analyzing  the  power  of  this  quiet  man.  It 
lay  of  course,  in  the  control  of  money.  And  money 
would  be  only  a  token  of  human  energy.  The  religion 
of  his  own  ardent  years  had  taken  no  account  of 
earthly  energy  or  its  tokens;  it  had  directed  the  eyes 
of  the  bewildered  seeker  toward  a  mystical  other 
world.  Yet  human  life,  in  the  terms  of  this  earth, 
must  go  on.  To  this  point  he  always  came  around,  of 
late  years,  in  his  thinking,  just  as  the  church  had 
always  come  around  to  it.  Money  was  vital.  The 
church  was  endlessly  begging  for  it;  in  no  other  way 
could  it  survive  to  continue  turning  away  the  puzzled 
eyes  of  the  seekers. 

And  the  immense  energy  created  in  the  human 
struggle  to  live  and  prosper  must  continually  be  gath- 
ering up,  here  and  there,  into  visible  power  that  shrewd 
human  hands  would  surely  seize.  He  felt  this  now 
as  a  law.  Religion  had  not  left  him.  He  felt  more 
strongly  than  ever  before  that  this  miraculously  con- 
tinuing energy  implied  a  sublime  orderly  force  that 
transcended  the  outermost  bounds  of  human  intelli- 
gence. Religion  was  surely  there;  it  only  wanted  dis- 
covering. It  had,  as  surely,  to  do  with  primitive 
energy,  with  the  heat  of  the  sun  and  the  disciplined 


THE  INSCRUTABLE  WEST  149 

rush  of  the  planets,  with  the  tragic  struggle  of  human 
business,  with  work  and  war  and  sex  and  money .... 
And  then  he  indulged  in  a  half-smile.  For  this  primi- 
tive undying  energy  could  be  no  other  than  the  Tao  of 
Lao-tzu  and  Chuang  Tzii.  And  so,  after  all  these 
groping  years  of  his  errant  faith,  he  had  fetched  up, 
simply  in  Taoism. 

But  that  law  seemed  to  stand.  The  human  strug- 
gle created  power  that  tended  to  gather  at  convenient 
centers.  And  here  beside  him,  smoking  a  cigar,  stood 
a  man  whose  uncommon  genius  fitted  him  to  seize  that 
power  as  it  gathered  and  administer  it;  a  man  to 
whom  money  came — the  very  winds  of  chance  heaped 
it  about  him.  And  to  Doane,  just  now,  money — even 
in  quantity  that  would  be  to  Kane  hardly  the  income 
of  a  day  or  so — meant  so  much  that  the  grotesque 
want  of  it  (the  word  "grotesque"  came)!  stopped  his 
brain. 

For  it  was  coming  clear  to  him  how  completely  the 
throne  could  at  will,  obliterate  the  worldly  establish- 
ment of  Kang  Yu.  That  throne,  however  politically 
weak,  yet  held  the  savage  instruments  of  despotic 
power.  Kang's  sad  end  would  come  within  the 
twenty-four  hours,  perhaps;  certainly  he  would  wait 
only  to  prepare  himself  and  to  write  his  final  papers. 
The  eunuch's  men  would  be  everywhere  about  the 
household;  nothing  could  be  hidden  from  them,  or 
from  the  spies  among  the  servants. ...  .With  money — 
a  little  money — Hui  Fei  might  be  saved  from  an  end  as 
tragic  as  her  father's ....  The  thing,  surely,  could  be 


150  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

managed.  For  the  moment  it  seemed  almost  simple. 
She  could  be  spirited  away.  There  might  be  mission- 
aries to  escort  her  down  the  river  on  one  of  the 
steamers. 

It  was  then,  while  Doane's  thoughts  still  raced 
hither  and  thither,  that  Kane  himself  broached  the 
vital  topic. 

"This  viceroy" — thus  Kane — "seems  to  be  quite 
a  personage.  He's  been  a  diplomat,  I  believe.  And 
Kato  tells  me  has  an  excellent  collection  of  paintings." 

Doane  felt  himself  turning  into  a  trader.  "You 
are  interested  in  Chinese  paintings,  are  you  not,  Mr. 
Kane  ?"  he  asked  guardedly. 

"Oh,  yes.  I  have  something  of  a  collection.  And 
now  and  then  Kato  picks  up  something  for  me." 

"I  don't  know,  of  course,  how  far  you  would  care 
to  go  with  it,  Mr.  Kane" — Doane  was  measuring 
every  word  as  it  passed  his  lips — "but  there  is  a  pos- 
sibility that  a  bargain  could  be  struck  with  his  excel- 
lency at  this  time." 

"Indeed?" 

"It  would  be  advisable  to  act  pretty  quickly,  I 
should  say." 

"Well!  This  is  interesting.  You  are  informed 
about  his  collection?" 

"In  a  general  way.  It  is  very  well  known  out 
here.  His  collection  of  landscapes  of  the  Tang  and 
Sung  periods  is  supposed  to  be  the  most  complete  in 
existence,  with  fine  works  of  Ching  Hao,  Kuan  Tung, 
Tung  Yuan  and  Chu-jan.  The  best  known  paintings 


THE  INSCRUTABLE  WEST  151 

of  Li  Chang  are  his.  He  has  several  by  Kao  Ke-ming, 
and,  I  know,  an  original  sixfold  landscape  screen  by 
Kuo  Hsi.  Then  there  are  works  of  the  four  masters 
of  southern  Sung — Li  Tang,  Lui  Sung-nian,  Ma  Yuen 
and  Hsia  Kuai.  You  would  find  nearly  all  the  great 
men  of  the  Academy  represented." 

Doane  stopped ;  waited  to  see  if  this  list  of  names 
impressed  the  great  American.  If  he  knew,  in  his  own 
person,  anything  whatever  about  Chinese  painting  he 
must  exhibit  at  least  a  little  feeling.  But  Dawley 
Kane  said  nothing;  merely  lighted,  with  provoking 
deliberation,  a  fresh  cigar. 

"It  is  commonly  understood,  too" — Doane  could 
not  resist  pressing  him  a  little  further — "that  he  has 
authentic  paintings  by  Wu  Tao-tzu,  and  Li  Lung- 
mien."  Surely  these  two  names  would  stir  this  man 
who  seemed  at  moments  no  more  than  a  calculating 
machine  with  manners.  But  Kane  smoked  on.... 
"And  I  understand  that  he  has  a  fairly  complete  col- 
lection of  portraits  by  the  men  of  the  Brush-strokes- 
reducing  Method." 

He  finished  rather  lamely;  fell  silent,  and  looked 
out  over  the  still  brilliantly  lighted  river;  the  river  of 
a  hundred  thousand  dramatic  scenes — battles  and 
romances  and  struggles  for  trade — the  great  river  with 
its  endless  memories  of  gold  and  bloodshed — the  river 
that  for  a  brief  day  was  running  red  again.  The  fire 
out  there,  though  red  flame  and  rolling  smoke  and 
whirling  sparks  still  roared  upward,  was  consuming 
now  the  lower  deck  and  the  hull.  Within  the  hour  the 


152  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

Yen  Hsin  would  be  no  more  than  a  curving  double 
row  of  charred  ribs;  one  more  casual  memory  of  the 
river. 

Still  Dawley  Kane  smoked  on.  He  clearly  knew 
no  enthusiasm.  He  was  an  analyst,  an  appraiser,  a 
trader  to  the  core.  He  felt  no  discomfort,  even  in 
friendly  talk,  in  letting  the  other  man  wait.  But 
Doane  would  say  no  more.  And  finally,  knocking  the 
ash  off  his  cigar  with  a  reflective  finger,  Kane 
remarked ; 

"You  really  think  that  this  collection  would  be  a 
good  buy?" 

"Unquestionably." 

"Have  you  any  idea  what  he  would  ask?" 

"I  don't  even  know  that  he  would  consider  sell- 
ing it." 

"But  if  he  were  propfc/ly  approached. ...  .there  are 
reasons . . . . " 

"You  know  of  his  predicament?" 

"I  gather  that  there  is  a  predicament." 

"Oh .well,  yes,  there  is.  But  I  don't  know  how 

even  to  guess  at  the  value.  Many  of  the  paintings 
are  priceless.  In  New  York,  at  collecto/'j  prices,  and 
without  hurrying  the  sale . . . . " 

"A  hundred  thousand  dollars?" 

"Many  times  more." 

"But  if  he  is  anxious  to  sell — must  sell^1* 

"There  is  that,  of  course." 

"A  hundred  thousand  is  a  good  deal  of  riwyey. 
If  I  were  to  place  that  sum  to  his  credit  to-morrow, 


THE  INSCRUTABLE  WEST  153 

for  instance,  by  wire,  at  a  Shanghai  bank,  don't  you 
suppose  it  would  tempt  him?" 

"It  might.  Though  Rang  knows  the  value  of 
every  piece."  Doane  was  finding  difficulty  in  keep- 
ing pace  with  the  situation.  Kane  would  shave  every 
penny;  as  a  matter  of  principle.  That,  of  course, 
explained  him ;  was  the  secret  of  his  wealth  and  power. 
Paintings,  after  all,  mattered  to  him  only  in  a  remote 
sense;  you  could  always  buy  them  if  you  chose,  if 
people  would,  as  apparently  they  did,  think  better  of 
you  for  buying  them.  It  came  down  to  the  desirability 
of  building  up  and  solidifying  one's  name,  of  what 
Doane  had  heard  spoken  of  everywhere  in  America 
during  his  last  visit  as  "publicity."  The  word  irritated 
him.  It  suggested  that  other  word,  also  heard  every- 
where in  America,  "salesmanship."  These  words,  to 
the  sensitively  observant  Doane,  had  connoted  an 
unpleasant  blend  of  aggressive  enterprise  with  an 
equally  aggressive  plausibility. 

But  his  wits  were  sharpening  fast.  If  this  man 
was  a  buyer,  he  would  be  a  seller. 

"His  excellency  has  another  collection  that  might 
or  might  not  interest  you — the  value  of  it  would  be 
only  slightly  artistic — his  precious  stones."  Doane 
threw  this  out  carelessly.  "There  is  no  estimating  the 
value  of  those.  It  might  run  into  the  millions . . . . " 
He  saw  Kane's  eyes  come  to  a  sudden  hard  focus 
behind  the  veil  of  smoke.  He  was  really  interested  at 
last.  And  Doane,  with  mounting  pulse,  quietly  added, 
"He  has  historical  jewels  from  many  parts  of  Asia — 


154  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

head  ornaments,  bracelets,  ropes  of  matched  pearls 
from  Ceylon,  old  carven  jade  from  Khotan,  quantities 
of  the  jewelry  taken  from  Khorassan  and  Persia  by 
Genghis  Khan  and  his  sons,  including  a  number  of 
famous  royal  pieces,  and  some  of  the  jeweled  orna- 
ments brought  from  the  temples  of  India  by  Kublai 
Khan." 

This,  Doane  knew,  was  enough.  He  waited,  now, 
himself.  Waited  and  waited. 

"Mr.  Doane" — Kane,  at  last,  was  speaking — "I 
would  be  glad  to  have  you  approach  the  viceroy  for 
me.  To-night,  if  you  think  best.  I  will  be  glad,  of 
course,  to  pay  you  a  commission." 

"Shall  I  make  a  definite  offer — for  the  paintings 
and  the  jewels?" 

"No."  Kane  considered.  "Let  him  set  a  price. 
Then  we  will  make  our  offer." 

"It  is  safe  to  say,  Mr.  Kane" —  Doane  was  remem- 
bering experiences  of  men  in  church  and  educational 
work  who  had  had  to  approach  the  great  capitalists 
for  gifts  of  money — "that  you  could  sell  half  the 
paintings  for  what  you  might  pay  for  the  two  collec- 
tions at  this  time.  That  would  enable  you  to  give  the 
other  half,  as  a  collection  bearing  your  own  name,  to 
one  of  the  art  museums  at  home,  at  no  cost  to 
yourself." 

Kane  smoked  thoughtfully.  "I  presume,  Mr. 
Doane,"  he  said,  "that  the  predicament  you  spoke  of 
can  not  interfere  in  any  way  with  the  safe  delivery 
of  the  collections." 


THE  INSCRUTABLE  WEST  155 

Doane  considered.  How  much  did  this  man 
know?  That  Japanese,  behind  his  mask  of  a  smile, 
would  be  deep,  of  course.  With  a  sudden  sinking  of 
the  heart,  Doane  perceived  that  Kane  might  easily 
know  the  whole  story.  But  even  if  he  did  he  would 
admit  nothing.  He  trusted  no  one;  that  was  his  calm 
cynical  strength.  He  would  trade  to  the  last .... 
Another  swift,  if  random,  perception  of  this  tense 
moment  was  that  much  of  the  common  talk  regarding 
the  "inscrutable"  East  was  utter  nonsense.  Read  in 
the  light  of  history  and  habit  the  Oriental  mind  was 
anything  but  deeply  mysterious;  it  was,  indeed,  very 
nearly  an  open  book.  Whereas  the  Western  mind, 
with  its  miraculous  religion,  its  sentimentality  and 
materialism  and  (at  the  same  time)  its  cynically 
unscrupulous  financial  power,  could  be  baffling 
indeed. 

Desperate  now,  seeing  no  other  way  through, 
Doane  spoke  out  from  his  tortured  heart.  "Mr. 
Kane,  the  simple  fact  is  that  his  excellency  has  been 
condemned  to  death,  and  his  daughter  to  a  fate  that 
will  almost  certainly  end  in  death  for  her  as  well. 
They  are  seizing  his  property. ..." 

"Who  are  they?" 

"The  Imperial  Government — the  empress  dowager 
and  her  crew.  They  are  sending  the  chief  eunuch, 
Chang  Yuan-fu,  to  take  his  paintings  and  jewels,  and 
his  daughter,  to  Peking.  Frankly,  it  may  be  necessary 
to  hurry  matters — smuggle  the  things  out.  But  the 
fan  paintings  can  be  packed  in  parcels,  the  scrolls 


156  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

rolled  small  on  their  ivory  sticks,  the  jewels  gathered 
in  a  few  boxes.  Once  in  white  hands  they  would  be 
safe,  I  think.  I  believe  I  can  arrange  it.  The  por- 
celains and  carvings  you  would  probably  have  to  leave 
behind." 

His  voice  died  out.  Dawley  Kane  was  coolly 
appraising  him.  Their  minds  were  not  meeting. 

"As  you  are  stating  it  now,  it  is  a  different  situa- 
tion altogether,"  said  Kane,  the  ring  of  tempered  metal 
in  his  voice.  "Obviously  the  man  to  deal  with  is  the 
eunuch,  What's-his-name." 

"But— really— " 

"He  would  have  the  collections  complete  including 
the  porcelains  and  the  carvings.  I  should  want  them 
all.  He  would  be  ignorant  and  corrupt,  of  course ;  we 
could  buy  him  for  a  song.  And  there  would  be  no 
risk.  Yes,  let  him  get  possession.  Then  if  you  would 
like  to  approach  him  for  me  I  will  be  glad  to  see  that 
you  make  something  for  yourself." 

Doane  drew  in  his  breath.  Slowly  he  said:  "But 
that,  Mr.  Kane,  seems  a  good  deal  like  taking  a  profit 
out  of  the  viceroy's  misfortune." 

But  he  caught  himself.  To  Kane,  who  had  made 
enormous  profits  out  of  wrecked  railways,  who  had 
cornered  stocks  and  produce  and  mercilessly  squeezed 
the  short  sellers,  this  would  be  sentimentality. 

Doane  heard  himself  saying:  "I'm  sorry.  I  could 
hardly  undertake  it,  Mr.  Kane."  And  walked  away. 
His  failure  was  complete.  Worse,  if  there  had  been 
any  gaps  in  the  information  supplied  by  the  ubiquitous 


THE  INSCRUTABLE  WEST  157 

little  Kato,  they  were  filled  now.  The  finely  balanced 
machine  that  served  so  smoothly  as  a  brain  in  the 
head  of  the  great  American,  would  be  working  on  and 
on.  Through  the  Japanese  he  could  easily  enough 
reach  Chang  Yuan-fu  from  Hankow  after  the  tragedy 
that  now  hovered  so  close  over  the  old  viceroy  and  all 
that  was  his.  He  could  make  what  he  and  his  suave 
kind  would  doubtless  regard — the  slang  word  came 
grimly — as  a  killing. 

3 

The  white  men  had  made  a  small  fire  of  dry  rushes 
and  thwarts  from  the  boats.  There  sat  Hui  Fei,  the 
sleeping  little  princess  in  her  arms;  and,  beside  her, 
Rocky  Kane.  Near  by,  where  the  men  had  spread 
coats  on  the  ground,  Miss  Means  and  Miss  Andrews 
slept  side  by  side. 

Doane  walking  toward  the  group — stopping,  mov- 
ing away  only  to  turn  irresolutely  back — saw  young 
Kane  reach  over  and  take  the  child  into  his  own  arms, 
and  saw  Hui  Fei  smile  at  him.  He  strode  away  then, 
struggling  to  believe  that  she  could  do  that  But  she 
had ....  After  all,  she  knew  only  that  he  had  acted 
outrageously  toward  her,  had  then  apologized  publicly, 
boyishly,  and  now  had  brought  her  little  sister  ashore, 
himself  falling  exhausted  on  the  bank.  With  those 
few  facts,  out  of  her  impulsively  young  judgment  she 
could  strike  a  balance  in  his  favor.  Even  at  his  worst 
he  had  bluntly  admired  her;  for  that  she  might,  in  the 
end,  forgive  him.  And  his  youth  would  call  to  her. 


158  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

Doane,  indeed,  forced  himself  to  consider  the  boy 
dispassionately.  The  wild  oats  of  any  spoiled  youth 
with  too  much  money  at  his  disposal,  if  brought 
together,  and  closely  scrutinized,  would  make  an 
appalling  showing.  Wild  young  men  did,  of  course, 
recover.  There  was  in  this  boy  a  note  of  intensity — 
passionate,  eager — that  was  by  no  means  all  egotism. 
And  there  was  in  the  father  a  hard  sort  of  character 
that  had  proved  itself  indomitable,  and  that  must  be 
taken  into  account.  Yes,  it  was  a  simple  fact,  that 
many  a  young  fellow  had  gone  farther  wrong  than 
had  Rocky  Kane  without  wrecking  his  adult  life.  You 
couldn't  tell.  And  there  they  were,  the  eager  moody 
boy  and  the  lovely  girl,  who  was  oddly,  quaintly  con- 
spicuous in  her  opera  wrap,  sitting  very  close,  talking 
in  low  tones  while  he  walked  alone.  It  was  torture 
. ...  .yet  it  was  an  awakening.  He  told  himself  that 
it  was  better  so. . .  .Pacing  back  and  forth,  dwelling 
on  the  quick  changeableness  of  youth,  its  ardor  and 
sensitive  hopefulness,  he  thought — reaching  out  for 
fellowship  as  will  always  the  hurt  soul — of  other  lonely 
lives,  of  Abelard  and  Jean  Valjean,  of  St.  Francis, 
even  of  Christ.  It  was  odd — from  his  present 
philosophical  position  of  something  near  Taoism  he 
felt  the  legendary  Christ  as  a  profoundly  human  and 
friendly  spirit,  immeasurably  more  tender,  finer, 
gentler  than  the  theological  structure  of  thought  and 
conduct  that  had  been  erected  in  His  name.  He  had 
thought  himself  very  nearly  around  the  circle,  back 
to  essential  good ....  This  process  could  bring  only 


THE  INSCRUTABLE  WEST  159 

humility.  Life  began  to  matter  less.  Love  was  a  tor- 
menting problem  of  self ;  the  mature  soul  must  in  some 
measure  attain  selflessness  if  it  were  not  to  go  down 
in  the  trampled  dust  of  life.  Worldly  success  was  an 
accident.  It  was  hardly  desirable;  hardly  mattered. 
That  he  had  within  the  hour  pinned  his  hope  to  money, 
fairly  fought  for  it,  began  to  seem  incredible. 

The  viceroy  found  him  standing  quietly  by  the 
river,  turning  from  the  slowly  dying  fire  out  there  to 
the  slowly  spreading  glow  in  the  eastern  sky. 

"I  like  to  think,"  remarked  his  excellency,  smiling 
in  friendly  fashion,  "that  when  the  first  Buddhist 
patriarch,  Bodhidharma,  miraculously  crossed  the 
river  on  a  reed  plucked  from  the  southern  bank,  it  was 
not  far  from  here,  near  my  home." 

"Was  not  your  city  of  Huang  Chau  the  home  of 
Li  Po?"  asked  Doane. 

"Indeed,  yes!"  cried  his  excellency.  "In  some  of 
his  excursions  on  the  river  he  undoubtedly  passed  the 
site  of  my  home." 

Doane  quoted  from  that  most  famous  of  rhapsodists 
in  musical  Chinese :  "  'One  who  has  hearkened  to  the 
waters  roaring  down  from  the  heights  of  Lung,  and 
faint  voices  from  the  land  of  Ch'in;  one  who  has  lis- 
tened to  the  cries  of  monkeys  on  the  shores  of  the 
Yangtze  Kiang  and  the  songs  of  the  land  of  Pa*. . . . 
That" — he  was  musing  aloud,  reflectively  as  the 
Chinese  do — "was  written  three  full  centuries  before 
William  of  Normandy  first  set  foot  on  British  soil 

,  .Li  Po  so  described  himself." 


160  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

They  talked  on,  of  life  and  philosophy,  in  language 
interwoven  with  classical  allusions.  Friendship,  the 
finest  relationship  in  Chinese  civilization,  as  it  stood, 
had  come  to  them. .,. .  It  brought  a  kind  of  peace. 
Doane  failed  to  recognize  this  sensation  as  in  some 
degree  but  a  phase  of  his  painful  exaltation.  It  seemed 
to  him  then  that  his  struggle,  no  matter  what  atone- 
ment might  lie  before,  was  over.  He  forgot  again  the 
Western  vigor  that  was,  and  to  the  last  would  be, 
driving  his  spirit. 


Meanwhile  the  swiftly  growing  acquaintanceship 
of  Hui  Fei  and  Rocky  Kane  was  weaving  its  bright- 
tinted  weft  in  and  out  through  the  dark  warp  of 
Rocky's  ill-spent  youth.  His  eyes  followed  the  slightest 
movement  of  her  slim  hands  and  rested  dog-like  on  her 
finely  modeled  head  about  which  the  shining  wet  black 
hair  lay  close.  To  his  quick  youth  she  was  an  exquis- 
ite fairy.  He  felt  her  as  perfume  in  the  air  he 
breathed.  Her  voice,  when  she  drowsily,  prettily 
spoke,  fell  on  his  ear  like  music  in  an  enchanted  land. 
He  could  say  little;  he  had  never  before  so  lost 
himself. 

She  tried  daintily  to  conceal  a  yawn.  And  he, 
clasping  the  child  in  both  arms,  turned  away  to  hide 
its  brother.  Then,  very  softly,  she  laughed  and  he 
laughed. 

"You  must  try  to  sleep,"  he  said  gently. 


THE  INSCRUTABLE  WEST  161 

"I  can  no'  let  you  keep  my  sister.  You,  too,  are 
ver'  tire'." 

"It's  nothing.  I  love  to  hold  her.  Really!  You 
see,  my  life  hasn't  been  this  way.  Maybe,  if  I'd  had 
a  sister. . . .."  He  stopped;  suddenly,  vividly  sensing 
what  he  had  been;  a  hot  flush  flooded  his  sensitive 
face.  He  could  only  add  then:  "I  want  you  to  sleep. 
It  may  be  hours  before  the  boat  comes  for  you.  It's 
been  such  a  horrible  night — such  a  nightmare . . . . " 

"But  you  mus'  res',  too.  One  of  the  servan's  will 
take  my  sister." 

"No !"  he  crie'd,  low,  fiercely,  "I  won't  let  any  one 
else  have  her!"  Sensing  crudely  that  the  child  was  a 
chord  between  them,  he  tightened  his  hold.  The  little 
head  rolled  back  on  his  arm;  he  bent  over,  tenderly 
kissed  the  soft  cheek,  then  looked  over  it  at  Hui  Fei, 
staring.  During  one  brief  moment  their  eyes  met  full 
in  the  flickering  yellow  light. 

She  turned  away;  in  lieu  of  speech  looked  about 
for  a  spot  to  lay  her  head. 

"Here!"  He  laid  the  child  on  the  ground;  and, 
surprised  to  find  himself  collarless  and  coatless,  took 
off  his  waistcoat,  rolled  it  up  and  placed  it  for  a  pillow. 
"It's  really  pretty  well  dried  out,"  he  added,  with  an 
embarrassed  little  laugh....  Then,  as  she  still  said 
nothing,  went  on,  "Do  just  lie  down  there.  I'll  keep 
awake.  We  can't  count  on  the  servants;  they're  all 
scared  to  death." 

Still  she  hesitated.     "I'm  afraid  I  am  ver'  tire'," 


162  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

she  finally  remarked  unsteadily.  "I  can't  think  ver* 
clearly." 

"Listen!"  said  he,  hardly  hearing.  "I've  got  to 
tell  you  something.  I'm  not  good  enough  so  much  as 
to  speak  to  you." 

"Please!"  she  murmured.  "I  don*  wan*  you  to 
talk  abou'— " 

"I  don't  mean  that.  It's  other  things  too."  His 
voice  broke,  but  after  a  moment  he  pressed  on,  a  deter- 
mined look  on  his  curiously  youthful  face.  "I've  done 
every  rotten  thing  I  could  think  of.  I'm — well,  I 
guess  I'm  just  a  criminal.  No,  listen — please!  It's 
true.  I'm  to  blame  for  this  awful  fire — smoking 
opium  in  my  cabin.  It  was  my  lamp — it  must  have 
been.  I  fell  asleep.  But  I  knew  better,  of  course .... 
Oh,  God,  it's  terrible!  All  those  lives,  all  this  suffer- 
ing! And  you — I've  nearly  killed  you — when  it  was 

you "  Here,  creditably,  he  caught  himself. 

"Don't  think  I'm  talking  wildly.  I'm  getting  at 
something.  Seeing  you,  meeting  you — and  now,  this 
— well,  I've  never  seen  anybody  like  you.  It's  bowled 
me  off  my  feet.  I  know  what  love  is,  now —  Oh, 
please!  I've  got  to  get  this  out.  I  love  you.  I'm 
crazy  about  you.  I  can  say  that  because  pretty  soon 
that  boat'll  come  and  you'll  go  and  I'll  never  see  you 
again.  It's  right,  too!  I've  got  to  start  again — alone 
and  prove  that  there's  good  stuff  in  me  somewhere ..." 

"I'm  ver'  tire',"  she  murmured  wistfully;  and 
resting  her  head  on  the  rolled-up  waistcoat  she  lay 
still. 


THE  INSCRUTABLE  WEST  163 

If  she  had  only  let  him  finish!  There  had  been 
something — some  point — he  was  getting  at.  He  hadn't 
meant  to  tire  her  or  hurt  her. . .  .When  the  tall  eunuch 
came  for  the  little  princess  he  angrily  drove  the  fel- 
low away.  For  Hui  Fei  was  sleeping  now,  peacefully, 
like  the  warm  little  child  in  his  arms. 

An  English  gunboat  was  the  first  relief  craft  to 
arrive;  in  the  cool  dawn;  a  tiny  craft,  built  for  the 
river,  with  a  white  freeboard  low  as  a  monitor's  and 
bridge  structure  forward  of  the  thin  high  funnel.  The 
small  boat  that  came  ashore  made  a  number  of  trips, 
taking  off  the  passengers  and  the  surviving  white  offi- 
cers of  the  Yen  Hsin. 

His  excellency  refused,  with  calm  courtesy,  to  set 
foot  on  the  English  gunboat  that  was  built  for  the 
river;  he  would  wait  for  the  junk  that  had  been 
sent  for. 

Dawley  Kane  found  his  son,  nodding,  with  the 
picturesquely-clad  child  in  his  arms.  The  boy, 
glancing  at  the  sleeping  Hui  Fei  whose  head  rested 
comfortably  on  the  rolled-up  waistcoat,  gave  the  child 
now  to  the  patiently  waiting  eunuch,  then  fairly 
dragged  his  father  to  the  boat.  With  the  Japanese, 
Kato,  and  oddly  distant  to  the  big  mate  and  the  sud- 
denly exotic-appearing  viceroy  in  his  richly  embroid- 
ered satins  who  had  been  after  all  only  casually,  for  a 
few  days,  in  their  lives,  they  embarked. 

They  had  nearly  reached  the  gunboat  when  those 
on  the  bank  heard  young  Kane's  voice  raised  in  hot 
protest.  There  was  a  moment  of  argument;  then  a 


1 64  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

splash.  The  boy  could  be  seen  then  swimming  back  to 
shore.  And  Dawley  Kane,  turning  his  back,  went  on 
to  the  gunboat,  stepped  aboard,  and  disappeared. 
Rocky  clambered,  dripping,  up  the  bank ;  came  straight 
to  Doane,  a  staring,  exhausted  youth,  very  white. 

"I  can't  do  it,"  he  panted.  "They're  just  told  me 
— Kato  and  the  pater — about  this  terrible  trouble  of 
the  viceroy's  and — and  Miss  Hui  Fei's. . .  .The  pater 
said  it  was  time  I — got  clear  of  any  new  entanglement. 
I  quit  him.  Oh,  I  suppose  you'll  think  me  a — damn 
fool,  but" — at  this  point  he  nearly  broke  into  tears' — 
"but  I  love  that  girl,  Mr.  Doane!  If  I  can't  be  of 
some  use  to  her — now,  in  this  awful  trouble — I  don't 
want  to  live.  Will  you — help  me  ?  And  let  me  help  ?" 

And,  all  blind  confidence,  he  offered  his  hand  to 

the  big  mate;  who  took  it. 

The  gunboat  hoisted  anchor  and  swung  about, 
heading  down-stream.  Passing  her,  upward  bound, 
came  a  large  junk,  with  the  rig  of  a  trader  from 
Szechuen,  her  single  huge  rectangular  sail,  brown- 
umber  in  tint  and  closely  ribbed  with  battens  of  bam- 
boo, flat  against  the  one  mast  that  towered  clumsily 
amidships.  The  eight  long  sweeps,  in  the  low  waist 
and  forward,  moved  rhythmically  in  time  with  the 
syncopated,  wailing  chant  of  nearly  a  hundred  oars- 
men. The  tai-kung  crouched,  bamboo  pole  in  hand, 
just  within  the  prow. 

The  hull  was  of  cypress,  stained  from  stem  to 
stern  with  yellow  orpiment  and  rubbed  to  a  polish 
with  oil.  The  high  after-deck  structure,  all  of  fifty 


THE  INSCRUTABLE  WEST  165 

feet  in  length,  terminating  in  a  projecting  gallery 
twenty  feet  or  higher  above  the  water,  was  carved 
everywhere  in  intricately  decorative  designs;  as  were, 
also,  the  roof  over  the  tillerman's  stand  on  the  deck 
house  and  the  gallery  railing  (just  within  which  stood 
a  row  of  flowering  plants  in  yellow  and  green  pots). 
The  many  small  windows  along  the  sides  were  glazed 
with  opalescent  squares  of  ground  oyster  shells  and 
glue;  those  across  the  stern  (under  the  gallery)  with 
stained  glass. 

To  no  one  aboard  the  gunboat  or  among  the  still 
waiting  groups  on  the  bank  did  the  thought  occur  that 
this  craft  might  be  engaged  in  other  than  peaceable 
business.  Her  like  were  not  an  uncommon  sight  along 
the  always  crowded  river.  The  passing  attention  she 
drew  was  merely  that  aroused  by  a  richly  decorative 
object  moving  beautifully  (with  a  remarkably 
detailed  reflection)  through  the  flat  water,  that  itself 
glowed  under  the  red  and  gold  of  the  early  morning 
sky  like  a  great  sheet  of  burnished  old  copper.  It  was 
not  observed  that  three  white  faces  peered  warily  out 
of  the  shadow,  behind  as  many  opened  windows;  nor 
could  it  easily  be  seen  that  the  figure  in  blue,  sitting, 
knees  drawn  up,  on  the  deck  house  just  behind  the 
laopan  who  mercilessly  urged  on  the  sweat-shining 
oarsmen,  was  none  other  than  the  redoubtable 
Tom  Sung. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

ABOARD  THE  YELLOW   JUNK 

¥  N  making  their  escape  from  the  steamer,  Tex  Connor 
and  the  Manila  Kid  seized  one  of  the  small  boats, 
manning,  one  at  either  end,  the  tackle-falls.  Connor 
was  quick,  rough,  profane.  The  Kid,  breathless  with 
excitement,  hesitant,  glancing  back  over  the  rail  for 
a  thinly  girlish  face  that  did  not,  then,  appear,  worked 
with  ten  thumbs  at  the  ropes.  Connor's  end,  the  bow, 
fell  first,  a  short  way,  nearly  pitching  him  out.  He 
cursed  this  futile  man,  his  jackal,  roundly;  then  clung 
to  the  tackle  as  the  stern  fell ....  The  Kid  moaned 
with  pain  as  the  slipping  hemp  burned  the  skin  off  his 
fingers,  but  held  it  just  short  of  disaster. 

Hot  red  flames  licked  out  overhead  as  the  boat 
jerkily  dropped.  The  women  were  screaming  up  there. 
A  white  man,  the  second  mate,  leaned  over,  swearing 
vigorously  at  them.  They  passed  an  open  freight 
gangway,  where  bodies  lay. 

"Ready,  now!"  cried  Connor.    "Let  go  with  me!" 

"Wait  a  minute,  can't  you?"  whined  the  Kid.    He 

was  peering  into  the  dark  interior  of  the  steamer; 

grasping  a  moment  more;  wrapping  a  handkerchief 

166 


ABOARD  THE  YELLOW  JUNK        167 

about  his  left  hand.  "My  God!  Can't  a  fellow  tie 
up  his  hand." 

A  thin  blue  figure  appeared,  stepped  lightly  over 
into  the  boat  and  dropped  on  a  middle  thwart. 

"Dixie!"  cried  the  Kid  in  falsetto. 

She  wore  a  cap,  and  carried  an  oddly  lady-like 
shopping  bag. 

"Where'd  you  come  from?"  growled  Connor. 

"I  saw  you  start,"  said  the  girl  casually.  "Come 
on — let's  get  away." 

Connor  stared  at  her ;  then  turned  back  to  his  work. 
The  boat  struck  the  water  and  drifted  rapidly  away 
down-stream.  Connor,  roaring  angrily  at  the  Kid,  got 
out  an  oar. 

"What  are  you  doing?"  asked  Miss  Carmichael 
very  quietly. 

"Going  ashore?"  said  Connor. 

"Oh,  come,  Tex !"  said  she.     "Use  your  head." 

He  looked  sharply,  inquiringly,  doubtingly  at  her. 

"You  two  better  row  straight  down-stream  as 
hard  as  you  can,"  she  added.  "You  can  bet  Tom 
Sung  and  that  gang  aren't  going  to  show  themselves 
at  Kiu  Kiang.  They've  stopped  somewhere  below 
here." 

The  Kid,  who  was  nursing  his  hand,  looked  up; 
wrinkled  his  low  forehead  (he  was  hatless)  and  then 
softly  whistled.  Connor  made  no  remark,  but  con- 
tinued studying  the  girl  with  his  one  eye.  Finally, 
with  an  effort  at  reasserting  his  authority,  he 
growled : 


i68  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

"Take  an  oar,  Jim!" 

"But  my  hands!  My  God,  that  rope  took  all 
the—" 

"Do  you  expect  me  to  do  the  rowing,  Jim?"  said 
Miss  Carmichael. 

The  Kid  yielded  then.  The  girl  settled  herself 
comfortably  in  the  stern,  looking  back  at  the  fire. 
Soon  they  were  out  of  the  circle  of  light. 

Suddenly  Connor  drew  in  his  oar ;  stowed  it  away. 

"Dixie,"  he  remarked.  "You've  made  up  your 
mind  to  go  through  with  this  business,  eh?" 

"Certainly,"  she  replied. 

"You'll  have  to  come  across  if  you  want  my  help. 
I  won't  go  it  blind." 

Miss  Carmichael  glanced  back  at  the  red  glow  in 
the  sky,  then  out  toward  the  slightly  paling  East. 

"I'll  tell  you  by  sunrise,"  she  said.  "The  thing 
won't  keep  much  longer  than  that,  anyhow.  It'll  have 
to  be  fairly  quick  work." 

"All  right,"  said  Connor.  "That's  an  agreement. 
Now  I'm  going  to  take  a  nap.  This  current's  taking 
us  down  fast  enough.  When  you  sight  Tom's  outfit, 
wake  me  up."  With  which  he  curled  up  in  the  bow, 
and  soon  was  snoring. 

The  Kid  stowed  his  own  oar,  and  crept  to  the  girl's 
side. 

"Careful!"  she  whispered.  "If  he  should  wake 
up...."  She  extricated  herself  from  an  encircling 
arm.  "Jim — sit  still  now! — It's  time  you  and  I  had 
an  understanding.  I  need  you,  and  I'm  going  to  use 


ABOARD  THE  YELLOW  JUNK         169 

you.  I  don't  propose  to  have  you  all  steamed  up, 
either.  You'll  need  all  the  nerve  you've  got.  Perhaps 
more.  I'm  not  at  all  sure  that  you're  big  enough  for 
what  you've  got  to  do.  That's  the  difficulty." 

"You  promised,  Dixie."  He  was  still  absurdly 
breathless.  "You  said  it  was  a  trade — if  I'd  stick  to 
you,  you'd  stick  to  me!" 

"Certainly.  But  it's  during  the  next  eight  or  ten 
hours  that  you're  going  to  find  out  what  sticking  to 
me,  means.  You  can  have  me,  all  right,  Jim,  but 
you've  got  to  earn  me." 

"I  guess  I'll  earn  you,  all  right" 

"I  wonder  if  you  have  the  courage." 

"By  God,  for  you,  Dixie — " 

Her  hand  fell  lightly  on  his;  and  her  voice,  very 
small  and  calm,  broke  in  with :  "Supposing  I  told  you 
to  kill  a  man.  Would  you  do  it  ?" 

She  heard,  felt,  his  breath  stop.  Then  he  whis-s 
pered,  with  one  swift  glance  at  the  sleeping  Connor: 

"If  I  say  yes,  Dixie,  will  you  kiss  me?  Right 
now?" 

She  pressed  her  lips  slightly;  then  replied:  "No. 
Not  yet.  And  you  needn't  kill  anybody  until  I  tell 
you  to." 

"Is  it — is  it" — his  whisper  was  huskier — "is  it — 
him,  Dixie?"  He  was  staring  with  less  certainty 
now,  at  Connor. 

"No" — said  she  slowly — "nobody  in  particular. 
But  anything  may  happen  to-night,  Jim.  And  we 
can't  falter.  Not  now." 


i;o  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

She  let  him  press  her  hand  during  a  brief  moment ; 
then  made  him  resume  his  seat.  And  from  behind 
lowered  lids  she  watched  him. 

Once  he  came  back,  to  ask  hoarsely:  "You  said  he 
was  rough  with  you,  Dix.  Did  he — did  you  and  he — 
my  God,  if  I  thought  that  Tex  had — " 

She  caught  his  shoulder  and  placed  a  hand  over  his 
mouth;  held  him  thus  while  she  said:  "If  he  catches 
you  back  here,  Jim,  he'll  kill  you.  No  fear!  Now 
you  go  back  there  and  show  me  that  you  can  play 
cards.  You're  sitting  in  the  biggest  game  of  your  life, 
Jim  Watson." 

He  crept  back;  puzzled,  something  hurt.  There 
was  a  sting  in  her  voice.  Could  it  be  that  the  girlish 
Dixie  was  as  cold-blooded  as  that?  Treating  him  like 
a  child !  Hadn't  she  any  feelings  ?  The  question  came 
around  and  around  in  his  muddy  brain,  confused  with 
frantic  uprushes  of  jealousy  against  the  big  man  who 
slept  and  snored  in  the  bow. .  .  .hadn't  she  any  feel- 
ings?. ...  She  was  excitingly  desirable. 

Just  as  a  conquest,  now ;  something  to  brag  about. 


It  was  Dixie  who  sighted  the  soldiers,  sitting  in 
heated  argument  on  the  bank  not  a  hundred  yards 
below  a  big  junk  that  lay  moored  to  stakes  in  an  eddy. 
She  called  sharply  to  Connor;  they  pulled  straight  in 
beside  the  other  two  boats. 

Tom  Sung  came  to  the  water's  edge,  a  rifle  (with 


ABOARD  THE  YELLOW  JUNK         171 

set  bayonet)  in  his  hand.  Connor  stepped  out,  holding 
the  boat.  The  Kid,  with  a  furtive  glance  at  the  big 
yellow  fighter,  and  the  abruptly  silent  shadowy  group 
on  the  bank,  cautiously  got  out  an  automatic  pistol 
and  held  it  beside  him  on  the  thwart. 

Dixie  said  sharply,  for  Connor's  ears:  "Put  up 
that  gun,  Jim!" 

The   Kid  obeyed. 

She  spoke  then  to  Connor  direct. 

"Tell  your  man  we  want  that  junk,"  she  said. 
"Get  out  these  other  boats  and  take  it,  quick.  Then 
we'll  start  back  up-stream." 

For  a  moment  Connor  was  nonplussed.  The  girl's 
assumption  of  authority  was  complete.  Even  the  slow- 
thinking  Tom  Sung  felt  her  presence  and  turned 
abruptly  from  himself  toward  her. 

But,  though  angered,  Connor  controlled  himself. 
She  meant,  after  all,  business.  Dixie  wasn't  a  girl  to 
make  careless  mistakes.  She  knew,  none  better,  what 
any  success,  little  or  big,  might  be  worth  in  risks  run. 
So,  speaking  sharply,  he  gave  his  orders  to  Tom. 

Quietly  the  twenty  or  more  outlaw  soldiers  came 
down  to  the  boats  and  pushed  off.  Rowing  and  pad- 
dling they  crept  up  on  the  junk.  A  drowsy  watchman 
peeped  over  at  the  rail,  forward. 

Then  they  were  alongside.  Catching  at  the  moor- 
ing poles,  the  soldiers  stepped  out  on  the  wide  sponson 
that  curved  down,  amidships,  nearly  to  the  water-line. 
Quickly,  rifles  slung  on  backs  but  revolvers  at  their 
girdles  and  knives  in  their  teeth,  they  went  up  the 


172  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

ropes  hand  over  hand,  their  bare  feet  clinging  monkey- 
like  to  the  smooth  side. 

There  were  cries  aboard  now,  and  a  confusion  of 
running  feet.  The  first  soldier  to  get  a  leg  over  the 
rail  came  tumbling  back  with  a  split  skull,  bounding  off 
the  sponson  into  the  water  and  sinking  as  he  drifted 
away. 

Connor  and  the  Kid  caught  together  at  the  spon- 
son. Connor  stepped  out;  and  calling  on  a  belated 
soldier  to  give  him  a  back,  climbed  laboriously,  puff- 
ing but  determined,  up  over  the  rail,  pausing  at  the 
top  only  to  call  back  for  the  Kid  to  follow. 

But  that  worthy  hesitated,  crouching,  clutching  at 
the  boat  painter.  "I've  got  to  hold  the  boat  here !"  he 
shouted  back;  but  Connor  had  disappeared. 

There  was  much  noise  up  there  now — shouts, 
groans,  appalling  screeches,  shots,  and  that  insistent 
pattering  of  feet. 

Dixie,  watching  critically  the  crouching  figure  on 
the  sponson — for  the  Kid  was  shivering  and  making 
little  sounds,  obviously  caught  in  the  acute  physi- 
cal distress  into  which  extreme  sudden  fear  will  at 
times  plunge  a  man — called  abruptly :  "Jim — look  up!" 

A  nearly  naked  Chinese  was  lowering  himself  in 
a  deliberate  gingerly  manner  down  a  moving  rope 
nearly  overhead. 

"Kill  him,  Jim!"  Dixie  added. 

Singling  out  her  clear  voice  from  the  tumult,  the 
yellow  man  looked  fearfully  down. 

The  Kid,  at  the  same  moment,  looked  up;  then, 


ABOARD  THE  YELLOW  JUNK         173 

fumbling-  in  a  curiously  absent  way  for  his  pistol, 
glanced  back  at  Dixie. 

"I'll  hold  the  boat,"  said  she.  "Go  on— kill  him!" 
She  sat  quietly,  one  thin  arm  reached  out  to  the  near- 
est mooring  pole,  looking  steadily  up. 

The  Kid,  nerving  himself,  suddenly  burst  into  a 
storm  of  wild  oaths  and  shot  three  times  into  the  body 
above  him.  At  the  first  shot  the  man  slipped  down  a 
little  way. 

"Push  him  away!"  Dixie  cried  sharply.  "I  don't 
want  him  falling  into  the  boat!" 

He  was  shooting  again;  and  then  with  an  effort 
diverted  the  falling  body. 

Dixie  got  up,  and  stood  steadying  herself  in  the 
gently  rocking  boat ;  and  the  Kid — quite  out  of  breath 
now,  and  muttering,  as  he  fondled  the  hot  pistol, 
"Well,  I  did  it,  didn't  I?  I  did  what  you  said!"— 
found  in  her  eyes,  shining  through  the  dusk  of  early 
dawn,  a  bright  white  light  that  was,  to  him,  discon- 
certing and  yet  profoundly  thrilling.  He  shivered 
again  as  he  felt  the  spell  of  her  strange  genius.  What 
a  woman,  he  was  thinking  again,  but  wildly,  madly, 
now,  to  conquer. 

And  she  was  saying,  "I  guess  your  nerve's  all 
right." 

Other  shining  yellow  bodies  were  tumbling  over 
the  side  and  floating  away. 

"Help  me  up  there,  Jim !"  she  commanded.  "Never 
mind  tying  the  boat — let  it  go!  It's  only  a  giveaway. 
Quick — give  me  a  hand !" 


174  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

She  was  beside  him  on  the  sponson.  He  clasped 
her  in  his  arms ;  but  before  he  could  kiss  her  she  slapped 
him  sharply.  "Keep  your  head!"  she  commanded. 
"Put  me  up  there !" 

He  lifted  her  high;  until  she  could  kneel,  then 
stand,  on  his  shoulder.  She  went  over  the  rail  as 
lightly  as  a  boy.  She  found  the  soldiers  in  small 
groups  cornering  one  or  another  of  the  crew,  tortur- 
ing and  hacking  at  them  with  bayonets  and  knives, 
and  during  a  brief  moment  looked  on  with  a  curious 
keen  interest.  The  master,  or  laopan,  crouched, 
whimpering,  on  the  poop ....  She  saw  Connor  stand- 
ing by  the  mast,  just  above  the  well,  amidships  and 
forward,  where  were  huddled  the  survivors  among  the 
crew  (their  number  surprisingly  large)  ;  Connor  was 
panting,  revolver  in  hand,  and  scowling  about  him. 

Dixie  stepped  to  his  side. 

"You've  got  to  save  enough  of  this  crew  to  work 
the  boat  up  the  river,  Tex,"  she  remarked. 

"I'm  saving  enough  of  'em,"  he  replied  graffly. 
"We've  only  killed  a  dozen  or  so.  There  was  more'n 
a  hundred." 

The  heavily  evil-looking  Tom  Sung  reluctantly 
detached  himself  from  one  of  the  groups  and  came 
over,  wiping  his  bayonet  casually  on  his  sleeve.  Him 
Connor  roughly  ordered  to  gather  his  men  together 
and  make  ready  to  get  under  way.  To  the  Kid,  who 
came  awkwardly  over  the  rail  just  then,  Connor  gave 
merely  a  glance.  Then  to  Dixie,  he  said : 

"Come  up  here!" 


ABOARD  THE  YELLOW  JUNK        175 

He  led  the  way  up  the  steps  with  the  carven  hand 
rail  to  the  poop;  gave  the  laopan  a  careless  kick; 
stepped  around  the  steersman's  covered  pit  and  out 
astern  on  the  high  projecting  gallery. 

"Now,"  he  said,  fixing  his  one  eye  on  her,  "wfiere's 
this  place  ?" 

She  turned  away  to  the  pots  of  flowers  that  stood 
closely  spaced  just  within  the  elaborate  woodwork  of 
the  railing.  There  were  chrysanthemums,  white,  yel- 
low and  deep  Indian  red ;  highly  cultivated  double 
dahlias ;  red  lotus  blossoms ;  and  tuberoses  that  filled 
the  fresh  morning  air  with  their  heavy  perfume. 

"Well?"  Connor  added  explosively. 

"I  said  I'd  tell  you  by  sunrise,  Tex,"  she  said, 
coolly  pleasant;  and  hummed,  very  softly,  a  music-hall 
tune,  bending  over  a  spreading  lotus  blossom  with 
every  appearance  of  ingenuous  girlish  interest.  After 
a  moment,  she  went  on,  "The  thing  now  is  to  get  this 
junk  up  the  river  as  fast  as  it  will  go." 

"Where  to?"  He  was  controlling  his  voice,  but 
his  face,  usually  expressionless,  was  brutally  clouded 
. . .  ."Push  me  just  a  little  farther,  Dix,  and  you'll  go 
overboard.  And  there  won't  be  any  flowers  at  the 
funeral.  By  God,  I'm  not  sure  I  wouldn't  enjoy  it. 
You  got  me  into  this  business !  Now  if  you — " 

"Better  control  yourself,  Tex,"  said  she;  straight- 
ening up  before  him.  "I  may  have  got  you  in,  but 
it's  a  real  job  now.  You've  got  to  go  through.  And 
you're  going  to  need  me.  The  place  is  a  few  miles 


176  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

this  side  of  a  town  called  Huang  Chau,  on  the  north 
bank." 

"Beyond  Hankow?" 

"No,  below.  It's  only  a  matter  of  hours  getting 
up  there,  if  you'll  just  get  this  junk  started." 

"How'll  we  know  it  when  we  get  there?" 

"All  we've  got  to  do  is  ask  a  native,  anywhere 
along  the  bank,  where  Kang  Yu  lives — his  old  home." 

"Who's  he?" 

"The  viceroy  of  Nanking.  Why  don't  you  use 
that  eye  of  yours  once  in  a  while,  Tex — look  around 
you  a  little?" 

Slowly  his  mind,  so  quick  at  the  vicious  games  of 
his  own  race,  picked  up  and  related  the  facts.  His 
face  relaxed,  as  he  thought,  into  the  familiar  wooden 
expression. 

"You're  sure  the  stones  are  there?"  he  asked, 
quietly  now. 

She  nodded ;  hummed  again ;  caressed  the  flowers. 

"All  right,  Dix,"  he  said  then,  as  he  turned  to  go 
forward,  "that  sounds  square  enough.  I  guess  I  can 
handle  it  all  right.  And  I'll  see  that  you  get  your 
share  all  hunky  dory." 

"What  are  you  figuring  my  share  to  be?"  she 
asked,  glancing  casually  up  from  a  lotus  blossom. 

"Oh,"  he  cried  without  hesitation,  almost  play- 
fully, "you  and  I  aren't  going  to  have  any  trouble 
about  that." 

He  went  then ;  and  she  lingered  among  the  flowers. 

From  beyond  the  long  deck  house  came  shouts  and 


ABOARD  THE  YELLOW  JUNK        177 

waiting1.  The  great  sweeps  were  got  overside.  The 
mooring  poles  were  hoisted  out  and  lashed  along  the 
sponsons.  The  clumsy  craft  swung  out  into  the  river 
and  moved  slowly  forward. 

At  the  sound  of  a  hasty  light  step  Dixie  looked 
up  into  the  haggard  gray  face  of  the  Kid. 

"What  was  it?"  he  whispered,  glancing  fearfully 
behind  him.  "Wha'd  he  say  to  you?" 

She  dropped  her  eyes ;  turned  away. 

"Quick!    Tell  me,  or  by  God,  I'll—" 

She  threw  up  a  frail  white  hand. 

"Not  now,  Jim !" 

"When?" 

"He'll  have  to  sleep.     There's  work  ahead." 

"If  you  think  /  can  sleep — " 

"I  can't  either,  Jim.  It's  dreadful.  But  I'm  going 
to  tell  you  everything.  You  have  a  right  to  know. 
Wait  till  we're  past  the  steamer.  We'd  better  get 
below  now  anyhow.  We  mustn't  be  seen.  If  we  aren't, 
they'll  never  suspect  this  junk.  Then  make  sure  he's 
asleep  and  come  up  here.  I'll  be  waiting." 


The  Kid  brought  Dixie's  breakfast  of  rice  and  eggs 
and  tea  to  the  gallery. 

"The  cook  was  only  wounded  a  little,"  he 
explained.  "Tom's  got  him  working  now." 

Dixie  was  reclining  on  a  Can-ton  chair  of  green 
rushes  over  a  bamboo  frame,  her  head  resting  Ian- 


178  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

guidly  near  the  tuberoses.  Now  and  again  she  drew 
in  deeply  the  rich  odor.  And  beyond  the  fringe  of 
flowers  and  the  carven  railing  she  could  see  the  river. 
Junks  moved  slowly  by,  sliding  down  with  the  current 
— somber  seagoing  craft  out  of  Tientsin  and  Cheefoo 
and  Swatow  and  even  Canton.  By  a  village  were 
clustered  open  sampans,  and  slipper-boats  with  their 
coverings  of  arched  matting.  The  small  craft  of 
the  fishermen  with  suspended  nets  or  with  roosting, 
crowding  cormorants  clustered  here  and  there  along 
the  channel-way.  Everywhere  farmers  and  their 
coolies  were  at  work  in  the  fields.  A  family — father, 
mother,  boys  and  girls — worked  tirelessly  with  their 
feet  a  large  irrigating  wheel  at  the  water's  edge. 

The  Kid  seated  himself  on  the  deck  and  mourn- 
fully looked  on  while  she  ate.  Perversely  she  delayed 
her  narrative,  playing  with  time  and  life.  In  her 
oblique  way  she  was  happy,  exercising  her  gift  for 
gambling  on  a  scale  new  in  her  experience.  Indeed, 
for  the  thrill  she  now  experienced,  Dixie  Carmichael 
would  have  paid  almost  any  price.  Life  itself — the 
mere  existing — she  held  almost  as  cheaply  as  the 
Chinese.  Deliberately,  with  nerves  steady  as  steel 
instruments,  she  finished  her  simple  breakfast  and 
then  put  the  bowls  aside  on  the  deck. 

Lying  back,  averting  her  face,  gazing  off  down  the 
river,  she  began  the  narrative  that  she  had  framed 
within  the  hour.  Her  manner,  calm  at  first,  soon 
offered  evidences  of  deeply  suppressed  emotion.  Her 
voice  exhibited  the  first  unsteadiness  the  Kid  had  ever 


179 


heard  in  it.  She  drew  out  an  embroidered  handker- 
chief from  the  pocket  of  her  blouse  and  pressed  it  once 
or  twice  to  her  eyes,  as,  with  an  air  of  dogged  deter- 
mination, she  talked  on. 

The  narrative  itself  dealt  with  her  girlhood  near 
San  Francisco,  her  chance  meeting  with  Tex  Connor, 
then  a  well-known  character  on  the  western  coast  of 
America,  her  girlish  infatuation  with  him,  and  an 
elopement  that  she  had  supposed  would  end  in  mar- 
riage. Instead  she  found  her  life  ruined.  Connor  had 
beaten  her,  degraded  her,  driven  her  into  vice.  She 
ran  away  from  him;  reached  the  China  Coast;  settled 
down  with  every  intent  to  become  what  she  termed,  in 
his  and  her  language,  a  square  gambler. 

"When  I  took  up  with  you  a  little  last  year,  Jim,  it 
seemed  to  me  that  at  last  I'd  found  a  man  I  could  tie 
to.  You  never  knew  my  real  feelings.  I'm  not  the 
kind  that  tells  much  or  shows  much.  I  guess  perhaps 
my  life's  been  too  hard.  But — oh,  Jim! — well,  you're 
seeing  the  real  girl  now.  I'm  pretty  well  beaten  down, 

Jim You're  getting  the  truth  from  me  at  last. 

I've  got  to  tell  it — all  of  it — for  your  own  sake.  You're 
in  worse  trouble  than  you  know,  right  now.  The 
cards  are  stacked  against  you,  Jim.  Your  life  even" 
— her  voice  broke ;  but  she  got  it  under  control — "I'm 
going  to  save  you  if  I  can." 

Moodily  he  watched  her. 

"If  it  was  anybody  but  Tex!  He's  merciless.  He's 
strong.  He  never  forgets ....  Listen,  Jim !  Tex 
came  clear  from  London  to  find  me.  And  he  found 


i8o  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

out  about — us — you  and  me.  That  I  was  growing 
fond  of  you.  He  never  forgets  and  he  never  forgives. 
Oh,  Jim,  can't  you  see  it!  Can't  you  see  that  that's 
why  he  took  you  on — so  he  could  watch  you,  keep 
you  away  from  me?  Can't  you  see  what  a  game  I've 
had  to  play?  God,  if  you'd  heard  what  he  said  to  me 
back  here  this  very  morning — Oh,  it's  too  awful!  I 
can't  tell  you!  He's  so  determined!  He  gets  his 
way,  Jim — Tex  gets  his  way !....,  Oh,  what  can 
I  do! 

"No,  wait — I've  got  to  tell  you  the  whole  thing. 
You  said  he  was  planning  to  cross  me.  He'll  do  that, 
of  course.  I  don't  think  I  care  much  about  that.  But 
you,  Jim — oh,  you  poor  innocent  boy!  If  you  could 
only  see !  You'll  never  get  your  hands  on  one  of  the 
viceroy's  jewels." 

She  turned  her  face  toward  him.  Her  eyes  now 
were  swollen  and  wet  with  tears. 

Jim,  gray  of  face,  held  in  his  two  hands  a  Chinese 
knife,  balancing  it.  There  were  stains  on  the  blade. 
He  must  have  picked  it  up,  she  reflected,  here  on  the 
junk.  For  it  wouldn't  be  like  him  to  carry  such  a 
weapon.  It  seemed  to  her  then  that  he  was  holding 
his  breath.  She  saw  him  moisten  his  blue  lips  with 
the  tip  of  an  ashen  tongue.  He  was  trying  to  speak. 
At  least  his  lips  parted  again.  She  waited.  When  the 
voice  did  finally  come,  it  was  so  hoarse  that  he  had 
evident  difficulty  in  making  it  intelligible. 

"Tex  may  be  strong — but  if  you  think  I'm 
afraid—" 


ABOARD  THE  YELLOW  JUNK         181 

"Oh,  Jim no,  I  don't  mean  that!  Not  that! 

Oh,  I  don't  know  what  I'm  saying!  It's  only  when 
I  think  how  happy  you  and  I  might  be — think  of  it! 
really  rich!  able  to  go  and  live  decently  somewhere, 
like  regular  folks! " 

Silently,  with  surprising  stealthy  swiftness,  he  got 
to  his  feet.  His  right  hand,  with  the  knife,  busied 
itself  in  a  side  pocket  of  his  coat. 

"Say  the  word,  Dixie" — his  face  was  contorted 
with  the  muscular  effort  necessary  to  produce  this 
small  sound — "say  the  word,  and  I'll  kill  him." 

"Oh,  no,  Jim!"  she  covered  her  face  with  her  thin 
hands,  and  sobbed,  very  low.  "Oh  God,  what  can  we 
do?  Isn't  there  some  other  way?" 

"Say  the  word,"  he  whispered. 

"Would  it  be" — she  broke  down  again — "would 
it  be — where  a  man's  a  devil,  where  he's  threatened — 
wouldn't  it  be  like  defending  ourselves?" 

"Say  the  word!" 

"Oh,  Jim— God  forgive  me ! Yes !" 

Her  lips  barely  framed  the  word.  But  he  read  it. 
She  watched  him  as  he  stepped  around  the  huge  coils 
of  tracking  rope  on  the  *oof  of  the  steersman's  pit; 
watched  until  he  dropped  softly  down  and  disappeared. 


4 


Then,  lying  back,  very  still,  she  listened.  But  the 
oarsmen  were  chanting  up  forward,  the  laopan  shout- 
ing; nearer,  the  steersman  was  singing  an  apparently 


182  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

endless  falsetto  narrative  (as  if  there  had  never  been 
bloodshed).  The  minutes  slowly  passed.  She  drew 
in  the  sweet  exhalation  of  the  tuberoses ....  still  no 
unusual  sound.  She  herself  exhibited  no  ,sign  of 
excitement  beyond  the  hint  of  a  cryptic  smile  and  the 

white  light  in  her  eyes Her  shopping  bag  lay 

on  her  lap.  Opening  it,  she  looked  at  the  bracelet 
watch,  that  nestled  close  to  a  small  triangular  bottle  of 
green  corrosive  sublimate  tablets ....  The  gentle 
wash  of  the  current  against  the  hull  gave  out  a  sooth- 
ing sound.  The  slowly  rising  sun  beat  warmly  down, 
and  the  polished  deck  radiated  the  heat.  A  sensation 
of  drowsiness  was  stealing  over  her.  For  a  short 
while  she  fought  it  off;  but  then,  deciding  that  no 
anxiety  on  her  part  could  be  of  value,  she  yielded, 
closed  the  bag  on  her  lap,  and  drifted  into  slumber. 

It  was  pleasantly  warmer  still.  She  felt  her  eyes 
about  to  open — slowly — on  a  presence.  This  languor 
was  delicious.  As  an  almost  ascetic  epicure  in  sensa- 
tions she  rested  a  moment  longer  in  it,  thinking 
dreamily  of  priceless  gems  heaped  in  her  hollowed 
hands;  of  luxurious  idleness  in  some  exotic  port — 
Singapore,  or  Penang  (she  had  loved  the  tropical 
splendor  of  Penang),  or  in  Burmah  or  India — Ran- 
goon say,  or  even  Lucknow,  Lahore  and  Simla.  They 
would  know  less  about  her  there.  And  with  the  means 
to  operate  on  a  larger  scale  she  should  be  able  to  add 
enormously  to  her  wealth.  She  decided  to  dress  and 
act  differently ;  make  a  radical  change  in  her  methods. 

Her  lips  parted.    The  presence  before  her — coat- 


ABOARD  THE  YELLOW  JUNK        183 

less,  little  cap  pushed  back  off  the  low  forehead — was 
Connor.  He  had  pushed  aside  a  flower  pot  to  make 
a  seat  on  the  rail. 

She  closed  her  eyes  again.  He  still  wore  the  gray 
flannels  and  the  white  shoes  with  the  rubber  soles- 
It  would  be  the  shoes  that  had  enabled  him  to  approach 
without  awakening  her.  He  was  smoking  a  cigar. 
And  the  face  was  wooden  again — save  for  his  eye — 
that  stared  oddly  at  her.  And  she  thought  his  breath- 
ing somewhat  short,  just  at  first. 

She  opened  her  eyes  again. 

"Fve  had  a  good  nap,"  she  said. 

He  smoked,  and  stared. 

"Where's  Jim?"  she  asked  then;  quite  casually; 
raising  herself  on  an  elbow. 

He  made  no  reply;  smoked  on,  still  a  thought 
breathless,  fixing  her  with  his  eyes. 

"He  brought  me  some  breakfast,  just  before  I  fell 
asleep What  time  is  it?" 

For  what  seemed  a  long  space  he  did  not  even 
answer  this;  merely  smoked  and  stared.  She  had 
never,  sensitively  keen  as  were  her  perceptions,  felt 
so  curious  a  hostility  in  Connor.  She  had  hitherto 
supposed  that  she  understood  him,  short  as  had  been 
their  actual  acquaintance — her  narrative  of  a  past  with 
him  in  America,  as  related  to  Jim,  was  false — but  the 
man  before  her  now,  sitting  all  but  motionless  on  the 
railing,  smoking  with  an  odd  rapid  intensity,  holding 
that  cold  eye  on  her,  was  wholly  alien. 

Finally  he  replied:  "It's  afternoon." 


184  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

"No!"  She  sat  up.  "Have  we  been  going  right 
along?" 

"Right  along." 

She  stood  erect;  covered  a  yawn;  then  with  her 
thin  hands  smoothed  down  the  wrinkled  blue  skirt 
about  her  hips. 

"I  look  like  the  devil,"  she  remarked.  The  thin 
hands  went  to  her  hair.  "You  haven't  noticed  any 
sort  of  a  mirror  in  the  cabin,  have  you,  Tex  ?" 

He  did  not  reply. 

Faintly  through  the  still  air  came  a  faint  sound — 
a  boom — boom-boom. 

"What's  that?"  she  asked  sharply. 

"Fighting  around  Hankow." 

"We're  not  way  up  there?"  She  stepped  to  the 
side  and  looked  out  ahead.  "There's  a  city!" 

"Tom  says  it's  Huang  Chau." 

"Hello!    We're  there!" 

He  inclined  his  head. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?" 

"Tie  up  here." 

She  heard  now  other  and  more  confused  sounds. 
The  junk  was  slowing  down;  working  in  toward  the 
yellow  shallows. 

"Now  listen!"  said  he.  She  glanced  at  him,  then 
away,  apparently  considering  the  quiet  landscape; 
alien  he  was  indeed,  and  hostile,  his  manner  that  of  an 
inarticulate  man  struggling  with  a  set  speech .... 
"Listen!  You're  smart  enough.  But  I  want  you  to 
understand  I  don't  trust  you." 


ABOARD  THE  YELLOW  JUNK        185 

"Don't  you,  Tex?" 

"When  I  go  ashore,  you're  to  stay  here — right 
here  on  this  deck — where  you  are  now." 

"What's  the  big  idea,  Tex?" 

"There'll  be  men  to  see  that  you  do  stay  here.  I 
want  you  to  get  this  straight." 

"Of  course,"  said  she  musingly,  "you  won't  be  able 
to  rob  me  outright.  You'll  have  to  give  me  enough  of 
a  share  to  keep  me  quiet  afterward." 

He  said  nothing. 

"But  what's  to  prevent  the  crew  from  getting  away 
with  the  junk.  I'm  not  very  keen  about  being  carried 
off  that  way." 

"You  needn't  worry.  I'm  taking  the  master  along 
with  me." 

He  stood  then ;  looked  meaningly  at  her ;  then  went 
forward.     She  noted  that  his  two  hip  pockets  bulged. 

Slowly  the  long  narrow  craft  was  worked  in 
toward  the  land.  Trackers  sculled  ashore  in  sampans 
and  made  the  great  hawsers  fast  to  stakes.  Then  the 
crew,  with  a  deal  of  shouting  and  many  casual  blows, 
were  assembled  in  the  long  well  forward  of  the  mast, 
where  they  huddled  abjectly. 

Peeping  around  the  steersman's  house,  Dixie  con- 
trived to  take  in  much  of  the  scene.  There  was  quar- 
reling among  the  soldiers.  Tom  Sung  towered  over 
them,  shouting  rough  orders.  The  two  men  that  were 
told  off  (she  judged  to  guard  her  and  the  junk) 
appeared  to  be  objecting  to  their  part  in  the  affair. 
Obviously  there  would  be  small  loot  here. 


186  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

Connor  came  back  over  the  deck  house;  stood 
angrily  over  her.  She  sensed  the  mounting  brutality 
in  him.  For  that  matter,  his  sort  and  their  ways  with 
women  were  familiar  enough  to  her.  She  had  learned 
to  take  brutal  men  for  granted.  But  it  had  not 
occurred  to  her  that  Connor  would  strike  her.  How- 
erver,  he  did.  Knocked  her  to  her  knees ;  then  to  her 
face ;  even  kicked  her  as  she  lay  on  the  deck.  He  was 
suddenly  loud,  wild. 

"None  o'  this  peeking  around!"  he  cried.  "Keep 
your  eyes  where  they  belong !"  And  left  her  there. 

After  a  little  she  was  able  to  creep  to  the  rail  and 
peer  out  through  the  flowers.  Frightened  members 
of  the  crew  were  sculling  the  sampans  back  and  forth, 
until  at  length  the  whole  party,  every  man  except  the 
laopan  armed,  fully  assembled,  set  off  inland. 

Beyond  an  unpleasant  headache  she  felt  no  injury. 
She  sat  for  a  little  while ;  then  again  looked  fonvard. 
The  two  guards  were  on  the  deck  house,  talking 
excitedly  together.  While  she  watched  they  climbed 
down,  shouted  at  the  huddled  crew,  fired  a  careless 
shot  or  two  into  the  mass  of  them  that  brought  down 
at  least  one.  At  length  two  of  the  crew  went  over 
the  side,  followed  by  the  soldiers.  A  moment  later 
the  sampan  appeared  moving  toward  the  shore,  the 
two  soldiers  loudly  urging  on  the  oarsmen. 

Dixie,  swiftly  then,  rearranging  her  disordered 
hair  as  she  walked,  went  down  into  the  cabin. 

A  corridor  extended  along  one  side  from  the  lao- 
quarters  under  the  steersman's  house — sounds  of 


i87 

stifled  weeping  came  from  there,  apparently  a  woman 
or  a  girl — forward  to  the  open  space  amidships.  The 
rooms  all  gave  on  this  corridor,  the  doorways  hung 
with  curtains  of  blue  cotton  cloth.  Into  one  and 
another  of  these  rooms  she  looked.  There  was  bent- 
wood  furniture  and  bedding  in  each — the  latter  tossed 
about.  On  the  walls  hung  neat  ideographic  mottoes. 
The  grillwork  about  the  windows  and  over  the  doors 
was  of  a  uniform  and  quaint  design. 

Connor  had  taken  for  himself  the  rear  room. 
There  she  found,  beneath  the  window  a  heap  of  matting 
and  bedding.  Thoughtfully,  deliberately,  she  lifted  it 
off,  piece  by  piece,  exposing  first  a  foot  and  leg,  then 
a  bony  hand,  finally  the  entire  figure  of  what  had 
been  Jim  Watson,  known,  of  recent  years,  along 
Soochow  Road  and  Bubbling  Well  Road  as  the  Manila 
Kid.  His  clothing  was  slashed  and  torn  in  many 
places.  About  his  middle,  and  about  his  head,  were 
wide  pools  of  blood  that  during  a  number  of  hours, 
evidently,  had  been  drying  into  the  boards  of  the  deck. 
The  neck,  she  observed,  on  closer  examination,  had 
been  cut  through  nearly  to  the  vertebrae. 

During  a  swift  moment  she  considered  the  grew- 
some  problem ;  then  carefully  replaced  the  matting  and 
bedding. 

She  went  forward  then  to  the  end  of  the  corridor; 
paused  to  look  in  her  shopping  bag,  open  the  triangular 
bottle  and  drop  a  few  of  the  green  pills  into  the  pocket 
of  her  middy  blouse,  under  her  handkerchief;  closed 
the  bag  and  stepped  out  on  the  low  midships  deck. 


188  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

The  sampan  had  just  returned  to  the  junk.  The 
two  soldiers  were  walking  rapidly  inland  after  Con- 
nor's party.  She  let  herself  quickly  over  the  side; 
stepped  into  the  sampan;  waved  toward  the  shore. 
Meekly  the  cowed  oarsmen  obeyed  the  pantomime 
order. 

She  stepped  out  on  the  bank,  very  slim,  almost 
pretty;  tossed  a  Chinese  Mexican  dollar  into  the  boat, 
watched,  with  a  faint,  reflective  smile,  the  two  primi- 
tive creatures  as  they  fought  over  it;  then  walked 
briskly,  not  without  a  trace  of  native  elegance  in  her 
carriage,  after  the  soldiers,  lightly  swinging'  her 
shopping  bag. 


CHAPTER  IX 

IN  A  GARDEN 

TTHE  road — narrow,  worn  to  a  deep-rutted  little 
canyon — circled  a  brown  hill,  rose  into  a  mud- 
gray  village,  where  a  few  listless  children  played  among 
the  dogs,  and  a  few  apathetic  beggars,  and  vendors  of 
cakes,  and  wrinkled  old  women  stared  at  the  thin  white 
girl  who  walked  rapidly  and  alone;  wound  on  below 
the  surface  of  the  cultivated  fields ;  came,  at  length,  to 
a  wall  of  gray-brick  crowned  with  tiles  of  bright  yellow 
glaze  and  a  ridge-piece  of  green,  and  at  last  to  a  gate 
house  with  a  heavily  ornamented  roof  of  timbers  and 
tiles.  Other  roofs  appeared  just  beyond,  and  interlac- 
ing foliage  that  was  tinged,  here  and  there,  with  the 
red  and  yellow  and  bronze  of  autumn. 

The  great  gates,  of  heavy  plank  studded  with  iron 
spikes,  stood  open,  apparently  unattended.  Dixie  Car- 
michael  paused ;  pursed  her  lips.  Her  coolly  searching 
eyes  noted  an  incandescent  light  bulb  set  in  the  mas- 
sive lintel.  This,  perhaps,  would  be  the  place.  Almost 
absently,  peering  through  into  tiled  courtyards,  she 
took  two  of  the  green  tablets  from  her  pocket;  then, 
holding  them  in  her  hand,  stepped  within,  and  stood 

189 


190  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

listening.  The  rustling  of  the  leaves,  she  heard, 
as  they  swayed  in  a  pleasant  breeze,  and  a  softly 
musical  tinkling  sound;  then  a  murmur  that  might  be 
voices  at  a  distance  and  in  some  confusion ;  and  then, 
sharply,  with  an  unearthly  thrill,  the  silver  scream  of 
a  girl Yes,  this  would  be  the  place. 

The  buildings  on  either  hand  were  silent.  Doors 
stood  open.  Paper  windows  were  torn  here  and  there, 
and  the  woodwork  broken  in.  But  the  flowers  and 
the  dwarf  trees  from  Japan  that  stood  in  jars  of  Ming 
pottery  were  undisturbed. 

She  passed  through  an  inner  gate  and  around  a 
screen  of  brick  and  found  herself  in  a  park.  There 
was  a  waterfall  in  a  rockery,  and  a  stream,  and  a 
tiny  lake.  A  path  led  over  a  series  of  little  arching 
bridges  of  marble  into  the  grove  beyond ;  and  through 
the  trees  there  she  caught  glimpses  of  elaborate  yellow 
roofs.  On  either  hand  stood  pai-loms — decorative 
arches  in  the  pretentious  Chinese  manner — and  beyond 

each  a  roofed  pavilion  built  over  a  bridge She 

considered  these ;  after  a  moment  sauntered  under  the 
fair-low  at  her  right,  mounted  the  steps  and  dropped 
on  the  ornamented  seat  behind  a  leafy  vine.  Here 
she  was  sheltered  from  view,  yet  her  eyes  commanded 
both  the  main  gate  and  the  way  over  the  marble  bridges 
to  the  buildings  in  the  grove. 

She  looked  about  with  a  sense  of  quiet  pleasure  at 
the  gilded  fretwork  beneath  the  curving  eaves  of  the 
pavilion,  the  painted  scrolls  above  them,  and  the  smooth 
round  columns  of  aged  nanmu  wood  that  was  in  color 


IN  A  GARDEN  191 

like  dead  oak  leaves  and  that  still  exhaled  a  vague 
perfume.  The  tinkling  sound  set  up  again  as  another 
breeze  wandered  by;  and  looking  up  she  saw  four 
small  bells  of  bronze  suspended  from  the  _eaves .... 
She  sat  very  still,  listening,  looking,  thinking,  draw- 
ing in  with  a  deep  inhalation  the  exquisite  fragrance 
of  the  nanmu  wood.  It  might  be  pleasant,  one  day, 
to  lease  or  even  buy  a  home  like  this.  So  ran  her  alert 
thoughts. 

The  murmuring  from  the  buildings  in  the  grove 
continued,  now  swelling  a  little,  now  subsiding. 
It  was  not,  of  itself,  an  alarming  sound,  except  for  an 
occasional  muffled  shot.  Her  quick  imagination,  how- 
ever, pictured  the  scene — they  would  be  running 
about,  calling  to  one  another,  beating  in  doors,  rum- 
maging everywhere.  The  drunkenness  would  doubt- 
less be  already  under  way.  There  would  be  much 
casual  but  ingenious  cruelty,  an  orgiastic  indulgence  in 
every  uttermost  thrill  of  sense.  It  would  be  interesting 
to  see;  she  even  considered,  her  nerves  tightening 
slightly  at  the  thought,  strolling  back  there  over  the 
bridges;  but  held  finally  to  her  first  impulse  and  con- 
tinued waiting  here. 

A  considerable  time  passed ;  half  an  hour  or  more. 
Then  she  glimpsed  figures  approaching  slowly 
through  the  grove.  They  emerged  on  the  farthest  of 
the  little  marble  bridges.  One  was  Tex  Connor;  the 
second  perhaps — certainly — Tom  Sung.  They  carried 
armfuls  of  small  boxes,  at  the  sight  of  which  Dixie's 
pulse  again  quickened  .  slightly ;  for  these  would  be 


192  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

the  jewels.  Tom  appeared  to  be  talking  freely;  as 
they  crossed  the  middle  bridge  he  broke  into  song; 
and  he  reeled  jovially. . . .  Connor  walked  firmly  on 
ahead. 

They  stopped  by  the  gate  screen.  Connor  glanced 
cautiously  about;  then  moved  aside  into  a  tiled  area 
that  was  hidden  from  the  gate  and  the  path  by  quince 
bushes.  He  called  to  Tom,  who  followed. 

Miss  Carmichael  could  look  almost  directly  down 
at  them  through  the  leaves.  She  watched  closely  as 
they  hurriedly  opened  the  boxes  and  filled  their 
pockets  with  the  gems.  Tom  used  a  stone  to  break  the 
golden  settings  of  the  larger  diamonds,  pearls  and 
rubies. 

A  low-voiced  argument  followed.  She  heard  Tom 
say,  "I  come  back,  all  light.  But  I  got  have  a  girl !" 
And  he  lurched  away. 

Connor,  looking  angrily  after  him,  reached  back 
to  his  hip  pocket ;  but  reconsidered.  He  needed  Tom, 
if  only  as  interpreter;  and  Tom,  singing  unmusically 
as  he  reeled  away  over  the  marble  bridges,  knew  it. 


Connor  waited,  standing  irresolute,  listening,  turn- 
ing his  eye  toward  the  gate,  then  toward  the  trees 
behind  him.  The  girl  in  the  pavilion  considered  him. 
She  had  not  before  observed  evidence  of  fear  in  the 
man.  But  then  she  had  never  before  seen  him  in  a 
situation  that  tested  his  brain  and  nerve  as  well  as  his 


IN  A  GARDEN  193 

animal  courage.  He  was  at  heart  a  bully;,  of  course  ; 
and  she  knew  that  bullies  were  cowards ....  What 
small  respect  she  had  at  moments  felt  for  Tex  left  her 
now.  She  came  down  to  despising1  him,  as  she 
despised  nearly  all  other  men  of  her  acquaintance. 
Still  peering  through  the  leaves,  she  saw  him  move  a 
little  way  toward  the  gate,  then  glance,  with  a  start, 
toward  the  marble  bridges,  finally  turning  back  to  the 
remaining  boxes. 

He  opened  one  of  these — it  was  of  yellow  lacquer 
richly  ornamented — and  drew  out  what  appeared  to  be 
a  tangle  of  strings  of  pearls.  He  turned  it  over  in  his 
hands;  spread  it  out;  felt  his  pockets;  finally  unbut- 
toned his  shirt  and  thrust  it  in  there. 

It  was  at  this  point  that  Dixie  arose,  replaced  the 
green  tablets  in  her  pocket,  smoothed  her  skirt,  and 
went  lightly  down  the  steps.  He  did  not  hear  her 
until  she  spoke. 

"Do  you  think  Tom'll  come  back,  Tex?" 

He  whirled  so  clumsily  that  he  nearly  fell  among 
the  boxes  and  the  broken  and  trampled  bits  of  gold  and 
silver;  fixed  his  good  eye  on  her,  while  the  other,  of 
glass,  gazed  vacantly  over  her  shoulder. 

She  coolly  studied  him — the  flushed  face,  bulging 
pockets,  protruding  shirt  where  he  had  stuffed  in  those 
astonishing  ropes  of  pearls. 

He  said  then,  vaguely :  "What  are  you  doing  here  ?" 

"Thought  I'd  come  along.  Suppose  he  stays  back 
there — drinks  some  more.  You'd  be  sort  of  up  against 
it,  wouldn't  you?" 


194  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

"I'd  be  no  worse  off  than  you."  He  was  evasive, 
and  more  than  a  little  sullen.  She  saw  that  he  was 
foolishly  trying  to  keep  his  broad  person  between  her 
and  the  boxes. 

"You  couldn't  handle  the  junk  without  Tom.  Not 
very  well ....  Look  here,  Tex,  it  can't  be  very  far  to 
the  concessions  at  Hankow.  We  could  pick  up  a  cart, 
or  even  walk  it." 

"What  good  would  that  do?" 
"There'll  be  steamers  down  to  Shanghai." 
"And  there'll  be  police  to  drag  us  off." 
"How  can  they  ?    What  can  they  pin  on  you  ?" 
Connor's  eye  wavered  back  toward  the  grove  and 
the  buildings.    He  was  again  breathing  hard.    "After 
all  this . . "  he  muttered.     "That  old  viceroy'll  be  up 
here,  you  know.     With  his  mob,  too.     And  there's 

plenty  of  people  here  to  tell "    He  was  trying  now 

to  hold  an  arm  across  his  middle  in  a  position  that 
would  conceal  the  treasure  there. 

Her  glance  followed  the  motion,  and  for  a  moment 
a  faintly  mocking  smile  hovered  about  her  thin  mouth. 
She  said:  "Saving  those  pearls  for  me,  Tex?" 

He  stared  at  her,  fixed  her  with  that  one  small 
eye,  but  offered  not  a  word.  A  moment  later,  how- 
ever, nervously  signaling  her  to  be  still  he  brushed  by 
and  peeped  out  around  the  quinces. 

"What  is  it?"  she  asked  quickly;  then  moved  to 
his  side. 


IN  A  GARDEN  195 


Immediately  beyond  the  farthest  of  the  marble 
bridges  stood  a  group  of  ten  or  twelve  soldiers  in 
drunkenly  earnest  argument.  Above  them  towered  the 
powerful  shoulders  and  small  round  head  of  Tom 
Sung.  In  the  one  quick  glance  she  caught  an  impres- 
sion of  rifles  slung  across  sturdy  backs,  of  bayonets 
that  seemed,  at  that  distance,  oddly  dark  in  color;  an 
impression,  too,  of  confused  minds  and  a  growing 
primitive  instinct  for  violence.  Tom  and  another 
swayed  toward  the  bridge ;  others  drew  them  back  and 
pointed  toward  the  buildings  they  had  left.  The  argu- 
ment waxed.  Voices  were  shrilly  emphatic. 

"Looks  bad,"  said  the  girl  at  Connor's  shoulder. 
"You've  let  'em  get  out  of  hand,  Tex."  Then,  as  she 
saw  him  nervously  measuring  with  his  eye  the  width 
of  the  open  space  between  the  quinces  and  the  gate 
screen,  she  added:  "Thinking  of  making  a  run  for 
it,  Tex?" 

He  slowly  swung  that  eye  on  her  now ;  and  for  no 
reason  pushed  her  roughly  away.  "It's  none  of  your 
business  what  I'm  going  to  do,"  he  replied  roughly. 

But  the  voice  was  husky,  and  curiously  light  in 
quality.  And  the  eye  wavered  away  from  her  intent 
look.  This  creature  fell  far  short  of  the  Tex  Connor 
of  old.  She  spoke  sharply. 

"Come  up  into  this  summer-house,  Tex!"  she  indi- 
cated it  with  an  upward  jerk  of  her  head  "They  won't 
see  us  there,  at  first.  You  didn't  see  me.  You've  got 


196  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

your  pistols.  You  can  give  me  one.  We  ought  to 
be  able  to  stand  off  a  few  Chinese  drunks." 

She  could  see  that  he  was  fumbling  about  for 
courage,  for  a  plan,  in  a  mind  that  had  broken  down 
utterly.  His  growl  of — "I'm  not  giving  you  any 
pistol !" — was  the  flimsiest  of  cover.  And  so  she  left 
him,  choosing  a  moment  when  that  loud  argument 
beyond  the  bridges  was  at  its  height  to  run  lightly  up 
the  steps  and  into  the  pavilion. 

From  this  point  she  looked  down  on  the  thick- 
minded  Connor  as  he  struggled  between  cupidity,  fear 
and  the  bluffing  pride  that  was  so  deep  a  strain  in  the 
man.  The  one  certain  fact  was  that  he  couldn't  pur- 
poselessly wait  there,  with  Tom  Sung  leading  these 
outlawed  soldiers  to  a  deed  he  feared  to  undertake 
alone ....  They  were  coming  over  the  bridges  now, 
Tom  in  the  lead,  lurching  along  and  brandishing  his 
revolver,  the  others  unslinging  their  rifles.  The  argu- 
ment had  ceased ;  they  were  ominously  quiet. 

Dixie  got  her  tablets  out  again;  then  sat  waiting, 
that  faint  mocking  smile  again  touching  the  corners  of 
her  mouth.  But  the  smile  now  meant  an  excitement 
bordering  on  the  thrill  she  had  lately  envied  the  savage 
folk  in  the  grove.  Such  a  thrill  had  moved  those  cold- 
eyed  women  who  sat  above  the  combat  of  gladiators  in 
the  Colosseum  and  with  thumbs  down  awaited  the 
death  agony  of  a  fallen  warrior.  It  had  been  respect- 
able then ;  now  it  was  the  perverse  pleasure  of  a  solitary; 
social  outcast.  But  to  this  girl  who  could  be  moved  by 
no  simple  pleasure  it  came  as  a  gratifying  substitute 


IN  A  GARDEN  197 

x 

for  happiness.  Her  own  danger  but  added  a  sharp 
edge  to  the  exquisite  sensation.  It  was  the  ultimate 
gamble,  in  a  life  in  which  only  gambling  mattered. 

Connor  was  fumbling  first  at  a  hip  pocket  where 
a  pistol  bulged,  then  at  a  side  pocket  that  bulged  with 
precious  stones.  His  eye  darted  this  way  and  that. 
His  cheeks  had  changed  in  color  to  a  pasty  gray.  The 
girl  thought  for  a  moment  that  he  had  actually  gone 
out  of  his  head. 

His  action,  when  it  finally  came,  was  grotesquely 
romantic.  She  thought,  in  a  flash,  of  the  adventure 
novels  she  had  so  often  seen  him  reading.  It  was  to 
her  absurd ;  even  madly  comic.  For  with  those  bulging 
pockets  and  that  gray  face,  a  criminal  run  to  earth 
by  his  cruder  confederates,  he  fell  back  on  dignity. 
He  strode  directly  out  into  the  path,  with  a  sort  of 
mock  firmness,  and,  like  a  policeman  on  a  busy  corner, 
raised  his  hand. 

Even  at  that  he  might  have  impressed  the  soldiers ; 
for  he  was  white,  and  had  been  their  vital  and  vigorous 
leader,  and  they  were  yellow  and  low-bred  and  drunk. 
As  it  was,  they  actually  stopped,  just  over  the  nearest 
bridge;  gave  the  odd  appearance  of  huddling  uncer- 
tainly there.  But  Connor  could  not  hold  the  pose.  He 
broke;  looked  wildly  about;  started,  puffing  like  a 
spent  runner,  up  the  steps  of  the  pavilion  where  the 
girl,  leaning  slightly  forward,  drawing  in  her  breath 
sharply  through  parted  lips,  looked  through  the  leaves. 

Several  of  the  rifles  cracked  then;  she  heard 
bullets  sing  by.  And  Connor  fell  forward  on  the  steps, 


198  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

clawed  at  them  for  a  moment,  and  lay  still  in  a  slowly 
widening  pool  of  thick  blood.  He  had  not  so  much 
as  drawn  a  weapon.  Tex  Connpr  was  gone. 

1 

They  came  on,  laughing,  with  a  good  deal  of  rough 
fanter,  and  gathered  up  the  jewels.  Tom  and  another 
mounted  the  steps  to  the  body  and  went  through  the 
pockets  of  his  trousers  for  the  jewels  that  were  there 
and  the  pistols.  As  there  was  no  coat  they  did  not 
look  further.  And  then,  merrily,  they  went  back  over 
the  marble  bridges  to  the  buildings  in  the  grove  where 
were  still,  perhaps,  liquor  and  women. 

When  the  last  of  their  shouts  had  died  out,  when 
laying  her  head  against  the  fragrant  wood  she  could 
hear  again  the  musical  tinkling  of  the  bronze  bells 
and  the  pleasant  murmuring  of  the  tiny  waterfall  and 
the  sighing  of  the  leaves,  Dixie  slipped  down  to  the 
body,  fastidiously  avoiding  the  blood.  It  was  heavy; 
she  exerted  all  her  wiry  strength  in  rolling  it  partly 
over.  Then,  drawing  out  the  curious  net  of  pearls 
she  let  the  body  roll  back. 

Returning  to  her  sheltered  seat  she  spread  on  her 
lap  the  amazing  garment ;  for  a  garment  of  some  sort 
it  appeared  to  be.  There  was  even  a  row  of  golden 
clasps  set  with  very  large  diamonds.  At  a  rough 
estimate  she  decided  that  there  were  all  of  three  thous- 
and to  four  thousand  perfect  pearls  in  the  numerous 
strings.  Turning  and  twisting  it  about,  she:  hit  on 


IN  A  GARDEN  199 

the  notion  of  drawing  it  about  her  shoulders  and  found 
that  it  settled  there  like  a  cape.  It  was,  indeed,  just 
that — a  cape  of  pearls.  She  did  not  know  that  it  was 
the  only  garment  of  its  precise  sort  in  the  world,  that 
it  had  passed  from  one  royal  person  to  another  until, 
after  the  death  of  the  Old  Buddha  in  1908  it  fell  into 
the  hands  of  his  excellency,  Kang  Yu. 

She  took  it  off ;  stood  erect ;  pulled  out  her  loosely 
hanging  middy  blouse;  and  twisting  the  strings  into 
a  rope  fastened  it  about  her  waist,  rearranging  the 
blouse  over  it.  The  concealment  was  perfect. 

She  sat  again,  then,  to  think  out  the  next  step. 
Returning  to  the  junk  was  out  of  the  question.  It 
would  be  better  to  get  somehow  up  to  the  concessions 
and  trust  to  her  wits  to  explain  her  presence  there. 
For  Tex  had  been  shrewd  enough  about  that.  The 
concessions  were  a  small  bit  of  earth  with  but  one  or 
two  possible  hotels,  full  of  white  folk  and  fuller  of 
gossip.  She  had  had  her  little  difficulties  with  the 
consuls  as  with  the  rough-riding  American  judge  who 
took  his  itinerant  court  from  port  to  port  announcing 
firmly  that  he  purposed  ridding  the  East  of  such 
"American  girls"  as  she.  Dawley  Kane  would  surely 
be  there,  and  other  survivors  of  the  fire....  It  all 
meant  picking  up  a  passage  down  the  river  at  the 
earliest  possible  moment ;  and  running  grave  chances  at 
that  But  her  great  strength  lay  in  her  impregnable 
self-confidence.  She  feared  herself  least  of  all. 

Another  problem  was  the  getting  to  the  conces- 
sions. It  was  not  the  best  of  times  for  a  girl  to  walk 


200  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

the  highway  alone.  To  be  sure,  she  had  come  safely 
through  from  the  junk;  but  it  had  not  been  far,  and 
she  hadn't  had  to  approach  a  native  army.  She  decided 
to  wait  an  hour  or  st>,  until  the  plunderers  there  in 
the  grove  should  be  fully  drunk ;  then,  if  at  the  moment 
it  seemed  the  thing,  to  slip  out  and  make  a  try  for  it. 

And  then,  a  little  later,  evidently  from  the  road 
outside  the  wall,  came  a  new  sort  of  confused  sounds  ; 
music,  of  flageolets  and  strings,  and  falsetto  voices, 
and  with  it  a  low-pitched  babel  of  many  tongues. 
Whoever  these  new  folk  might  be,  they  appeared  to 
be  turning  in  at  the  open  gate.  The  music  stopped 
abruptly,  in  a  low  whine  of  discord,  and  the  talk  rose 
in  pitch.  Over  the  brick  screen  appeared  banners  mov- 
ing jerkily  about,  dipping  and  rising,  as  if  in  the  hands 
of  agitated  persons  below;  a  black  banner,  bearing  in 
its  center  the  triple  imperial  emblems  of  the  Sun,  the 
other  two  yellow,  one  blazoning  the  familiar  dragon, 
the  other  a  phoenix. 

A  few  banner  men  appeared  peeping  cautiously 
about  the  screen;  Manchu  soldiers  of  the  old  effete 
army,  bearing  short  rifles.  They  came  on,  cautiously 
into  the  park,  joined  in  a  moment  by  others.  An 
officer  with  a  queue  and  an  old-fashioned  sword  and  a 
military  cap  in  place  of  a  turban  followed  and,  forming 
them  into  a  ragged  column  of  fours,  marched  them 
over  the  marble  bridges  and  into  the  grove,  where 
they  disappeared  from  view. 

Then  a  gorgeously  colored  sedan  chair  came  sway- 
ing in,  carried  by  many  bearers  walking  under  stout 


IN  A  GARDEN  201 

bamboo  cross-poles.  Others,  in  the  more  elaborate 
dress  of  officials,  walked  beside  and  behind  it.  Then 
came  more  soldiers,  who  straggled  informally  about, 
some  even  dropping  on  the  gravel  to  rest  their  evidently 
weary  bodies. 

The  chair  was  opened  in  front  and  a  tall  fat  man 
stepped  rather  pompously  out,  wearing  a  robe  of  rose 
and  blue  and  the  brightly  embroidered  insignia  and 
cap  button  of  a  mandarin  of  the  fourth  rank.  At  once 
a  servant  stepped  forward  with  a  huge  umbrella  which 
he  opened  and  held  over  the  fat  man.  And  then  they 
waited,  all  of  them,  standing  or  lying  about  and  talking 
in  excited  groups.  Several  of  the  officials  hurried 
back  around  the  screen  as  if  to  examine  the  deserted 
apartments  just  within  the  gate,  and  shortly  returned 

with  much  to  say  in  their  musical  singsong An 

officer  espied  the  body  of  Connor  lying  on  the  steps  of 
the  pavilion,  and  came  with  others,  excitedly,  to  the 
foot  of  the  steps.  The  key  of  the  confused  talk  rose  at 
once.  There  was  an  excited  conference  of  many  ranks 
about  the  tall  fat  man  under  the  umbrella. 

Then  came,  from  the  grove,  that  same  sound  of 
muffled  shots,  followed  by  a  breathless  pause.  More 
shots  then,  and  increasing  excitement  here  by  the 
screen.  A  number  of  the  soldiers  who  had  crossed 
the  bridges  appeared,  running.  The  man  in  the  lead 
had  lost  turban  and  rifle;  as  he  drew  near  blood  could 
be  seen  on  his  face.  And  now,  abruptly,  the  officials 
and  the  ragtag  and  bobtail  by  the  screen — pole-bearers, 
lictors,  runners,  soldiers — lost  their  heads.  Some  ran 


202  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

this  way  and  that,  even  into  the  bushes,  only  to  reap- 
pear and  follow  their  clearer-headed  brethren  out  to 
the  gate.  The  umbrella-bearer  dropped  his  burden  and 
vanished.  The  fugitives  from  the  grove  were  among 
the  panic-stricken  group  now,  racing  with  them  for  the 
gate  and  the  highway  without;  scurrying  around  the 
end  of  the  screen  like  frightened  rabbits;  and  in  pur- 
suit, cheering  and  yelling,  came  many  of  the  soldiers 
from  the  junk. 

They  caught  the  tall  fat  mandarin,  as  he  was  wad- 
dling around  the  screen,  wounded  by  a  chance  shot; 
leaped  upon  him,  bringing  him  down  screaming  with 
fear ;  beat  and  kicked  him ;  with  their  knives  and  bay- 
onets performing  subtle  acts  of  torture  which  gave 
them  evident  pleasure  and  of  which  the  coldly  observ- 
ant Dixie  Carmichael  lost  no  detail.  When  the  fat 
body  lay  inert,  not  before,  they  took  the  sword  of  a 
fallen  officer  and  cut  off  the  head,  hacking  clumsily. 
The  head  they  placed  on  a  pole,  marching  noisily  about 
with  it ;  finally  setting  the  pole  upright  beside  the  first 
of  the  little  marble  bridges.  Then,  at  last,  they  wan- 
dered back  into  the  grove  and  left  the  grisly  object 
on  the  pole  to  dominate  obscenely  the  garden  they  had 
profaned. 

Dixie  leaned  against  the  smooth  sweet  surface  of 
the  nanmu  wood  and  listened,  again,  to  the  pleasantly; 
soft  sounds  of  waterfall  and  moving  leaves  and  little 
bronze  bells.  Her  face  was  chalk  white ;  her  thin  hands 
lay  limp  in  her  lap ;  she  knew,  with  an  abrupt  sensation 
of  sinking,  that  she  was  profoundly  tired.  But  in  her 


IN  A  GARDEN  203 

brain  burned  still  a  cold  white  flame  of  excitement. 
Life,  her  instinct  as  the  veriest  child  had  informed 
her,  was  anything,  everything,  but  the  simple  copy- 
book pattern  expounded  by  the  naive  folk  of  America 
and  England.  Life,  as  she  critically  saw  it,  was  a 
complex  of  primitive  impulses  tempered  by  greeds, 
dreams  and  amazing  subtleties.  It  was  blindly  posses- 
sive, carelessly  repellent,  creative  and  destructive  in  a 
breath,  at  once  warm  and  cold,  kindly  and  savage, 
impersonally  heedless  of  the  helpless  human  creatures 
that  drifted  hither  and  yon  before  the  winds  of 
chance.  Cunning,  in  the  world  she  saw  about  her,  won 
always  further  than  virtue,  and  often  further  than 
force. 

She  could  not  take  her  eyes,  during  a  long  period, 
from  the  hideous  object  on  the  pole.  Her  over-stimu- 
lated thoughts  were  reaching  quickly,  sharply,  far  in 
every  direction.  The  feeling  came,  grew  into  belief, 
that  she  was,  mysteriously,  out  of  her  danger.  She 
felt  the  ropes  of  pearls  under  her  blouse  with  an  ecstatic 
little  catch  of  the  breath;  and  (finally)  letting  her 
eyes  drop  to  that  other  ugly  object  on  the  steps  beneath 
her,  slowly  opened  her  bag,  drew  out  the  bracelet 
watch  (that  the  Manila  Kid  had  given  her  out  of  an 
absurd  hope)  and  fastened  it  about  her  wrist.  And 
her  eyes  were  bright  with  triumph. 


CHAPTER  X 

YOUTH 

""THERE  came  for  his  excellency,  as  the  sun  mounted 
the  sky,  a  large  junk  of  his  own  river  fleet — great 
brown  sails  flapping  against  the  five  masts  of  all 
heights  that  pointed  up  at  crazily  various  angles,  pen- 
nons flying  at  each  masthead,  hull  weathered  darkly, 
mats  and  fenders  of  woven  hemp  hung  over  the  poop- 
rail,  and  a  swarming  pigtailed  crew  at  the  sweeps  and 
overside  on  the  sponson  and  hard  at  the  tracking  ropes 
as  the  tai-kung  screamed  from  the  bow  and  the  lao- 
pcm  shouted  from  the  poop. 

They  were  ferried  aboard  in  the  small  boat,  Kang 
with  his  daughters  and  his  suite  and  servants,  a  hand- 
ful of  pitifully  wailing  women,  young  Kane  and 
Griggsby  Doane.  Then  the  trackers  cast  off  from  the 
shore  and  the  mooring  poles,  the  sweeps  moved,  and 
with  the  laopon  musically  calling  the  stroke  the  junk 
moved  laboriously  up-stream  toward  the  home  of  his 
excellency's  ancestors. 

Crowded  into  the  ttiinviting  cabins  the  weary  trav- 
elers sought  a  few  hours  of  rest  Even  the  servants 
and  the  mourning  women,  under  the  mattings  forward, 

204 


YOUTH  205 

fell  swiftly  asleep.  Only  Rocky  Kane,  his  eyes  staring 
widely  out  of  a  sensitively  white  face,  walked  the 
deck ;  until  the  thought — a  new  sort  of  thought  in  the 
life  of  this  headstrong  youth — that  he  would  be  dis- 
turbing those  below  drove  him  aft,  out  beyond  the 
steersman  to  the  over-hanging  gallery.  Here  he  sat 
on  the  bamboo  rail  and  gazed  moodily  down  at  the 
tireless,  mighty  river  flowing  off  astern. 

The  good  in  the  boy — made  up  of  the  intelligence, 
the  deep-smoldering  conscience,  the  fineness  that  were 
woven  out  of  his  confused  heritage  into  his  fiber — 
was  rising  now  like  a  tide  in  his  spirit ;  and  the  experi- 
ence was  intensely  painful.  It  seemed  to  his  undis- 
ciplined mind  that  he  was,  in  certain  of  his  aspects,  an 
incredible  monster.  There  had  been  wild  acts  back 
home,  a  crazy  instinct  for  excess  that  now  took  on  dis- 
tinctness of  outline ;  moments  of  careless  evil  in  Japan 
and  Shanghai;  the  continuous  subtle  conflict  with  his 
father  in  which  any  evasion  had  seemed  fair ;  but  above 
all  these  vivid  memory-scenes  that  raced  like  an  uncon- 
trollably swift  panorama  through  his  over-alert  brain 
stood  out  his  vicious  conduct  on  the  ship.  It  was 
impossible  at  this  moment  to  realize  mentally  that  the 
Princess  Hui  Fei  was  now  his  friend ;  he  could  see  her 
only  in  the  bright  Manchu  costume  as  she  had  appeared 
when  he  first  so  uncouthly  spoke  to  her.  And  there 
were,  too,  the  ugly  moments  with  the  strange  girl 
known  as  Dixie  Carmichael.  That  part  of  it  was  only 
a  nightmare  now.... The  racing  in  his  brain  fright- 
ened him.  He  stared  at  the  dimpling  yellow  river,  at 


206  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

a  fishing  boat,  and  finally  lifted  his  hurt  eyes  to  the 

bright  sky He  had  been  going  straight  to  hell,  he 

told  himself,  mumbling  the  words  softly  aloud.  And 
then  this  lovely  girl  had  brought  him  into  confusion 
and  humility.  Suddenly  he  had  broken  with  his  father ; 
that,  in  itself,  seemed  curiously  unaccountable,  yet 

there  the  fact  stood Life— eager,  crowding — had 

rushed  him  off  his  feet.  He  felt  wildly  adrift,  carried 
on  currents  that  he  could  not  stem. ....  He  was, 
indeed,  passing  through  one  of  life's  deepest  experi- 
ences, one  known  to  the  somewhat  unimaginative  and 
intolerant  people  whose  blood  ran  in  his  veins  as  con- 
viction of  sin.  His  own  careless  life  had  overtaken 
and  confronted  him.  It  had  to  be  a  bitter  moment. 
There  was  terror  in  it.  And  there  was  no  escaping ;  it 
had  to  be  lived  through. 

A  merry  voice  called ;  there  was  the  patter  of  soft- 
clad  feet,  and  in  a  moment  the  little  princess  in  her 
yellow  hood  with  the  fox  head  on  the  crown  was  climb- 
ing into  his  lap.  Eagerly,  tenderly,  he  lifted  her;  cud- 
dled her  close  and  kissed  her  soft  cheek.  Tears  were 
frankly  in  his  eyes  now. 

He  laughed  with  her,  nervously  at  first,  then,  in 
the  quick  responsiveness  of  youth,  with  good  humor. 
She  came  to  him  as  health.  Together  they  watched 
the  diving  cormorants  and  the  wading  buffalo.  Then 
he  hunted  about  until  he  found  a  bit  of  board  and  a 
ball  of  twine;  whittled  the  board  into  a  flat  boat, 
stuck  a  little  mast  in  it  with  a  white  sail  made  from  a 
letter  from  his  pocket,  and  towed  it  astern.  Together 


YOUTH  207 

they  hung  on  the  rail,  watching  the  craft  as  it  bobbed 
over  the  little  waves  and  laughing  when  it  capsized 
and  lost  its  sail. 

She  climbed  into  his  lap  again  after  that,  and 
scolded  him  for  making  the  unintelligible  English 
sounds,  and  made  signs  for  him  to  smoke;  and  he 
showed  her  his  water-soaked  cigarettes. 


At  a  low-pitched  exclamation  he  turned  with  a 
nervous  start.  The  tall  eunuch  stood  on  the  cabin  roof ; 
came  quickly  forward  for  the  child.  And  beside  him 
was  Miss  Hui  Fei,  still  of  course  wearing  the  Chinese 
coat  and  trousers  in  which  she  had  escaped  from  the 
steamer.  She  had,  under  the  warm  sun,  thrown  aside 
the  curiously  modern  opera  wrap.  She  was  slim, 
young,  delicately  feminine.  The  boy  gazed  at  her 
reverently.  She  seemed  to  him  a  fairy,  an  unearthly 
creature,  worlds  beyond  his  reach.  In  his  excitement, 
but  a  few  hours  back — in  what  he  had  supposed  to  be 
their  last  moment  together,  in  what,  indeed,  had  seemed 
the  end  of  the  world — he  had  declared  his  love  for  her. 
That  had  been  an  uprush  of  pure  emotion. . . .  He 
recalled  it  now,  yet  found  it  difficult  to  accept  as  an 
occurrence.  The  actual  world  had  turned  unreal  to 
him,  as  it  does  to  the  sensitively  young  that  suffer 
poignantly. 

To  this  grave  young  woman,  oddly  his  shipmate, 
he  could  hardly,  he  felt  now,  have  spoken  a  personal 


208  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

word.  Their  acquaintance  had  begun  at  a  high  emo- 
tional pitch;  now  it  must  begin  again,  normally.  So 
it  seemed  to  him. 

"We  were  looking  for  my  li'l  sister,"  she  explained, 
and  half  turned.  The  eunuch  had  already  disappeared 
with  the  child. 

"Won't  you  sit  out  here- — with  me?"  He  spoke 
hesitantly.  "That  is,  unless  you  are  too  tired  to  visit." 

"I  coul'n'  sleep,"  said  she. 

Slowly  she  came  out  on  the  gallery. 

"There  aren't  any  chairs,"  said  he.  "Perhaps  I 
could  find — " 

"I  don'  mind."  She  sank  to  the  floor;  leaned 
wearily  against  the  rail.  He  settled  himself  in  a  corner. 

"I  couldn't  sleep  either.  You  see — Miss  Hui — 
Miss  Fei" — he  broke  into  a  chuckle  of  embarrassment 
— "honest  I  don't  know  what  to  call  you." 

The  unexpected  touch  of  boyish  good  humor  moved 
her  nearly  to  a  smile.  Boyish  he  was,  sitting  with  his 
feet  curled  up,  stabbing  at  the  deck  with  his  jack- 
knife,  coatless,  collarless,  his  thick  hair  tousled,  blush- 
ing pleasantly. 

"My  frien's  call  me  Hui,"  she  replied  simply. 

"Oh — really !  May  I —  If  you  would — of  course 
I  know  that — but  my  friends  call  me  Rocky.  The 
whole  thing  is  Rockingham  Bruce  Kane.  But . .  .  . " 

"I'll  call  you  Misser  Kane,"  said  she. 

His  face  fell  a  very  little ;  but  quickly  he  recovered 
himself. 


YOUTH  209 

"You  must  have  wondered — I  suppose  it  seems  as 
if  I've  done  a  rather  crazy  thing — it  must  seem  so. . ." 

She  murmured,  "Oh,  no!" 

"Attaching  myself  to  your  party  this  way — at 
such  a  difficult  time.  I  know  it  was  a  pretty  impulsive 
thing  to  do,  but . . . . " 

His  voice  trailed  into  silence.  For  a  brief  moment 
this  wild  act  seemed,  however  different  in  its  signifi- 
cance to  himself,  of  a  piece  with  his  other  wild  acts. 
It  was,  perhaps,  like  all  those,  merely  ungoverned 
egotism.  Her  voice  broke  sweetly  in  on  this  moment 
of  gloomy  reverie. 

"We  know  tha'  you  woul'  help  us  if  you  coul'. 
An'  you  were -so  won'erful." 

"If  I  only  could  help !  You  see  when  I  spoke  that 
way  to  you — I  mean  telling  you  I  loved  you — " 

"Please!     We  won'  talk  abou'  tha'." 

"No.  We  won't  Except  just  this.  I  was  beside 
myself.  But  even  then,  or  pretty  soon  afterward,  I 
knew  it  was  just  plain  selfishness." 

"You  mus'n'  say  that,  either.    Please !" 

"No — just  this!  Of  course  you  don't  know  me. 
What  you  do  know  is  all  against  me — " 

"I  have  forgotten — " 

"You  will  never  forget.  But  even  if  you  were 
some  day  to  like  me  more  than  you  could  now,  I  know 
it  would  take  a  long  time.  I've  got  to  earn  the  right 
to  be  really  your  friend  first.  I'm  going  to  try  to  do 
that.  I've  started  all  over — to-day — my  life,  I  mean. 
I'm  just  simply  beginning  again.  There's  a  good  long 


210  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

scrap  ahead  of  me.    That's  all  about  that !    But  please 
believe  that  I've  got  a  little  sanity  in  me." 
"Oh,  I'm  sure—" 

"I  have.  Jumping  overboard  like  that,  and  swim- 
ming back  to  you — it  wasn't  just  crazy  impulse,  like 
so  many  of  the  things  I've  done.  You  see,  my  father 
knows  you  and  your  father — yes,  I  mean  the  terrible 
trouble  you're  in.  Oh,  everything  comes  to  him, 
sooner  or  later.  All  the  facts.  You  have  to  figure  on 
that,  with  the  pater.  He — well,  he  wanted  me  to  stop 
thinking  about  you.  He  was  afraid  I'd  be  writing  to 
you,  or  something.  You  see,  he'd  watched  us  talking 
there  by  the  fire.  And  he  told  me  about  this — this 
dreadful  thing.  And  then  I  had  to  come  back.  Don't 
you  see?  I  couldn't  go  on,  leaving  you  like  this.  Of 
course,  it's  likely  enough  I'm  just  in  the  way  here — " 
She  was  smiling  wearily,  pathetically,  now. 
"Oh,  no—"  she  began. 

"It's  this  way,"  he  swept  impetuously  on.  "Maybe 
I  can  help.  Anyway,  I've  got  to  try.  If  your  father — 
really — "  He  saw  the  slight  shudder  that  passed 
through  her  slender  body,  and  abruptly  checked  the 
rapid  flow  of  words.  "We've  got  to  take  care  of 
you,"  he  said,  with  surprising  gravity  and  kindness. 
"You'll  have  to  get  back  with  the  white  people.  You 
mustn't  be  left  with  the  yellow." 

"I  know,"  said  she,  the  strength  nearly  gone  from 
her  voice.  "It  always  seems  to  me  that  I'm  an  Ameri- 
can. Though  sometimes  I  ge'  confuse'.  It  isn'  easy 
to  think." 


YOUTH  211 

"I'm  simply  wearing  you  out  I  mustn't.  But 
just  this — remember  that  I  know  all  about  it.  I've 
broken  with  my  father,  for  the  present,  and  I'm  happy 
about  that.  I  have  got  some  money  of  my  own — quite 
a  little.  I've  even  got  a  wet  letter  of  credit  in  my 
pocket.  I  had  just  sense  enough  last  night  to  get  it 
out  of  my  coat.  It's  no  good,  of  course,  outside  of  the 
treaty  ports,  but  it's  there.  I'm  here  to  help.  And  I 
do  want  to  feel  that  you'll  call  on  me — for  anything 
— and  as  for  the  rest  of  it — " 

He  had  thought  himself  unusually  clear  and  cool, 
but  at  this  point  his  voice  clouded  and  broke.  He 
glanced  timidly  at  her,  and  saw  that  her  eyes  were  full 
of  tears.  He  had  to  look  away  then.  And  during  a 
long  few  moments  they  sat  without  a  word. 

Then  the  thought  came,  "I'm  here  to  help!"  It 
was  a  stirring  thought.  He  had  never  helped,  never  in 
his  life  that  he  could  remember.  And  yet  the  Kanes 
did  things ;  they  were  strong  men. 

He  was  moodily  skipping  his  knife  over  his  hand, 
trying  to  catch  the  point  in  the  soft  wood.  Abruptly, 
with  a  surprising  smile,  he  looked  up  and  asked :  "Ever 
play  mumbletepeg  ?" 

Her  troubled  eyes  for  an  instant  met  his.  He 
chuckled  again  in  that  boyish  way.  And  she,  ner- 
vously, chuckled  too.  That  seemed  good. 

"It's  sort  of  hard  to  make  the  blade  stick  in  this 
wood,"  he  said  eag-erly.  "But  we  can  do  some  of  the 
things." 


212  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 


Griggsby  Doane,  too,  was  far  from  sleep.  For 
that  matter,  he  was  of  the  strong  mature  sort  that 
needs  little,  that  can  work  long  hours  and  endure 
severe  strain  without  weakening.  Moving  aft  over 
the  poop  he  saw  them,  playing  like  two  children,  and 
stepped  quietly  behind  the  slanting  short  mast  that 
overhung  the  steersman. 

They  made  a  charming  picture,  laughing  softly 
as  they  tossed  the  knife.  It  hadn't  before  occurred 
to  him  that  young  Kane  had  charm.  Plainly,  now, 
he  had.  And  it  was  good  for  Hui  Fei,  in  this  hour 
of  tragic  suspense.  Youth,  of  course,  would  call  unto 
youth.  That  was  the  natural  thing.  He  tried  to  force 
himself  to  see  it  in  that  light  but  he  moved  forward 
with  a  heavy  heart. 

The  junk  plowed  deliberately  against  the  current. 
The  monotonous  voice  of  the  chanting  laopcm,  the 
rhythmical  splash  and  creak  of  the  sweeps,  the  synco- 
pated continuous  song  of  the  crowded  oarsman,  an 
occasional  warning  cry  from  the  tai-kung — these  were 
the  only  sounds.  Elsewhere,  lying  in  groups  about 
the  deck,  the  castaways  slumbered. 

But  Doane  knew  that  his  excellency  was  awake, 
shut  away  in  the  laopan's  cabin,  for  repeatedly  he 
had  heard  him  moving  about.  Once,  through  a  thin 
partition,  had  come  the  sound  of  a  chair  scraping.  It 
would  mean  that  Kang  was  preparing  his  final  papers. 
These  would  be  paJhstakingly  done.  There  would  be 


YOUTH  213 

memorials  to  the  throne  and  to  his  children  and  friends, 
couched  in  the  language  of  a  master  of  the  classics, 
rich  in  the  literary  allusions  dear  to  the  heart  of  the 
scholar,  Manchu  and  Chinese  alike. 

Doane  found  a  seat  on  a  coil  of  the  heavy  tracking 
rope.  His  own  part  in  the  drama  through  which  they 
were  all  so  strangely  living  could  be  only  passive.  He 
would  serve  as  he  might.  His  little  dream  of  personal 
happiness,  with  a  woman  to  love  and  new  strong  work 
to  be  somehow  begun,  was  wholly  gone. 

Slowly,  foot  by  foot,  the  clumsy  craft  crept  up  the 
river.  And  strangely  the  scene  held  its  peaceful, 
intensely  busy  character.  Everywhere,  as  if  there 
were  no  revolution,  as  if  the  old  river  had  never 
known  wreckage  and  bloodshed,  the  country  folk 
toiled  in  the  fields.  Junks  passed.  Irrigating  wheels 
turned  endlessly.  Fishermen  sat  patiently  watching 
their  cormorants  or  lowering  and  lifting  their  nets. 
A  big  English  steamer  came  booming  down,  with  white 
passengers  out  of  bloody  Hankow  (the  looting  and 
burning  of  the  native  city  must  have  been  going  on 
just  then,  before  the  reinforced  imperial  troops  drove 
the  republicans  back  across  the  river).  They  lay 
about  in  deck  chairs,  these  white  passengers;  or, 
doubtless,  played  bridge  in  the  smoking-room.  And 
Doane,  as  so  often  during  his  long  life,  felt  his 
thoughts  turning  from  these  idle,  self-important 
whites,  back  to  the  oldest  of  living  peoples;  and  he 
dwelt  on  their  incalculable  energy,  their  incredible 
numbers,  their  ceaseless  individual  struggle  with  the 


214  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

land  and  water  that  kept  them,  at  best,  barely  above 
the  line  of  mere  sustenance. 

It  was  difficult,  pondering  all  this,  to  believe  that 
any  revolution  could  deeply  stir  this  vast  preoccupied 
people,  submerged  as  they  appeared  to  be  in  ancient 
habit.  The  revolution  could  succeed  only  if  the 
Manchu  government  was  ready  to  fall  apart  from  the 
weakness  of  sheer  decadence.  It  was  nothing,  this 
revolution,  but  the  desperate  work  of  agitators  who 
had  glimpsed  the  wealth  and  the  individualistic  tenden- 
cies of  the  West.  And  the  hot-blooded  Cantonese,  of 
course.  Most  of  the  Chinese  in  America  were  Canton- 
ese. The  revolution  was,  then,  a  Southern  matter;  it 
was  these  tropical  men  that  had  come  to  know  Amer- 
ica. That  was  about  its  only  strength.  The  great 
mass  of  yellow  folk  here  in  the  Yangtze  Valley,  and 
through  the  coast  provinces,  and  all  over  the  great  cen- 
tral plain  and  the  North  and  Northwest  were  peaceable 
at  heart;  only  those  Southerners  were  truculent,  they 
and  the  scattered  handfuls  of  students. 

And  yet,  China,  in  the  hopeful  hearts  of  those  who 
knew  and  loved  the  old  traditions,  must  somehow  be 
modernized.  Sooner  or  later  the  Manchus  would  fall. 
The  vast  patient  multitude  must  then  either  learn  to 
think  for  themselves  in  terms  of  modern,  large-scale 
organization  or  fall  into  deeper  degradation.  The 
European  trading  nations  would  strike  deep  and  hard 
in  a  sordid  struggle  for  the  remaining  native  wealth. 
The  Japanese,  with  iron  policy  and  intriguing  hand 
would  destroy  their  institutions  and  bring  them  into 
a  pitiful  slavery,  economic  and  military. 


YOUTH  21.5 

His  own  life,  Doane  reflected,  must  be  spent  in 
some  way  to  help  this  great  people.  The  individual, 
confronted  by  so  vast  a  problem,  seemed  nothing.  But 
the  effort  had  to  be  made.  Since  he  was  not  a  trader, 
since  he  could  not  hope  now  to  find  himself  in  step 
with  the  white  generation  that  had  passed  him  by, 
all  that  was  left  was  to  pitch  in  out  here.  The  call  of 
the  martyred  Sun  Shi-pi  pointed  a  way. 

The  personal  difficulty  only  remained.  The  man 
who  loses  step  with  his  own  people  and  his  own  time 
must  submit  to  being  rolled  under  and  trampled  on. 
There  is  no  other  form  of  loneliness  so  deep  or  so 
.bitter.  And  seeing  nothing  above  and  about  him  but 
the  hard  under  side  of  this  hard  white  civilization, 
the  unfortunate  one  can  not  hope  to  retain  in  full 
vigor  the  incentive  to  effort  that  is  the  magic  of  the 
creative  white  race.  Every  circumstance  now  seemed 
combined  to  hold  him  down  and  under.  The  philosophy 
of  the  East  with  which  his  spirit  was  saturated  argued 
for  contemplation,  submission,  negation  (as  did,  for 
that  matter,  the  gospel  of  that  Jesus  to  whose  life  the 
peoples  that  called  themselves  Christian,  in  their  every 
activity,  every  day,  gave  the  lie).  His  only  driving 
power,  then,  must  come  out  of  the  white  spark  that 
was,  after  all,  in  his  blood.  It  was  only  as  a  discord- 
antly active  white  that  he  could  help  the  yellow  men 
he  loved ....  And  the  one  great  incentive — love,  com- 
panionship, for  which  his  strong  heart  hungered — had 
flickered  before  him  only  to  die  out.  He  must  some- 
how, at  that,  prove  worthy.  It  was  to  be  just  one 


2i6  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

more  great  effort  in  a  life  of  prodigiously  wasted 
effort ....  He  thought,  as  he  had  thought  before,  in 
bitter  hours,  of  Gethsemane.  But  he  knew,  now,  that 
he  purposed  going  on.  Once  again  he  was  to  dedicate 
his  vigor  to  a  cause ;  but  this  time  without  the  hope  of 
youth  and  without  love  walking  at  his  side. 

And  then,  quaintly,  alluringly,  the  picture  of  Hui 
Fei  took  form  before  his  mind's  eye,  as  if  to  mock 
fris  laborious  philosophy,  charm  it  away.  Like  that 
of  a  boy  his  quick  imagination  wove  about  her  bright 
youth,  her  piquant  new-old  worldliness,  shining  veils 
of  illusion.  It  was,  then,  to  be  so.  He  was  to  live  on, 
sadly,  with  a  dream  that  would  not  die. ...  .He  bowed 
his  head. 

4 

Their  play  brought  relief  to  the  overwrought 
nerves  of  the  two  young  people.  After  a  time  they 
settled  comfortably  against  the  rail. 

"You  lost  all  your  things  on  the  steamer?"  said  he. 

"Ever'thing." 

"So  did  I."  He  smiled  ruefully.  "Even  part  of 
my  clothes.  But  it  doesn't  matter." 

"I  di'n'  like  to  lose  all  my  pretty  things,"  said  she. 
"But  they're  gone  now.  All  excep'  my  opera  cloak. 
An'  I'm  jus'  a  Manchu  girl  again.  It's  so  strange — 
only  yes'erday  it  seem'  to  me  I  was  a  real  American. 
I  los'  my  books,  too — all  my  books." 

He  glanced  up  quickly.    "You're  fond  of  reading  ?" 

"Oh,  yes.     Aren'  you?" 


YOUTH  217 

"Why — no,  I  haven't  been.  The  fellows  and  girls 
I've  known  didn't  read  much." 

"Tha'  seems  funny.  When  you  have  so  much. 
And  it's  so  easy  to  read  English.  Chinese  is  ver' 
hard." 

"What  books  have  you  read  mostly?" 

She  smiled.  "Oh,  I  coul'n'  say.  So  many!  I've 
read  the  classics,  of  course — Shakespeare  an'  Milton 
and  Chaucer.  Chaucer  is  so  modern — don'  you  think  ? 
I  mean  the  way  he  makes  pictures  with  words." 

"What  would  you  think,"  said  he,  "if  I  confessed 
that  I  cut  all  those  old  fellows  at  school  and  college?" 

"I've  thought  often,"  said  she  gravely,  "tha'  you 
Americans  are  spoil'  because  you  have  so  much.  So 
much  of  everything." 

"Perhaps.  I  don't  know.  The  fellows  feel  that 
those  things  don't  help  much  in  later  life." 

"Oh,  bu'  they  do!  You  mus'  have  a  knowledge  of 
literature  an'  philosophy.  Wha'  do  they  go  to  college 
for?" 

"Well — "  Inwardly,  he  winced.  He  felt  himself, 
without  resentment,  without  the  faintest  desire  to 
defend  the  life  he  had  known,  at  a  disadvantage.  "To 
tell  the  truth,  I  suppose  we  go  partly  for  a  good  time. 
It  puts  off  going  into  business  four  years,  you  know, 
and  once  you  start  in  business  you've  got  to  get  down 
to  it.  Then  there's  all  the  athletics,  and  the  friends 
you  make.  Of  course,  most  of  the  fellows  realize  tHat 
if  they  make  the  right  kind  of  friendships  it'll  help, 
later,  in  the  big  game." 


218  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

"You  mean  with  the  sons  of  other  rich  men?" 
she  asked. 

"Why,  no,  not — yes,  come  to  think  of  it,  I  suppose 
that's  just  what  I  do  mean.  Do  you  know  here  with 
you,  it  doesn't  look  like  much  of  a  picture — does  it  ?" 

Thoughtfully  she  moved  her  head  in  the  negative. 
"I  know  a  goo'  deal  about  it,"  said  she.  "I've  watch' 
the  college  men  in  America.  Some  of  them,  I  think, 
are  pretty  foolish." 

"I  suppose  we  are,"  said  he  glumly.  "But  would 
you  have  a  fellow  just  go  in  for  digging?" 

She  inclined  her  head.  "I  woul'.  It  is  a  grea' 
privilege  to  have  years  for  study." 

He  was  flushing.  "But  you're  not  a  dig!  You — 
you  dance,  you  know  about  things,  you  can  wear 
clothes " 

"I  don'  think  study  is  like  work  to  me.  I  love  it. 
An'  I  love  people — every  kin',  scholars,  working  people 
— you  know,  every  kin'." 

His  moody  eyes  took  in  her  eagerly  mobile  face; 
then  dropped,  and  he  stabbed  his  knife  at  the  deck. 

"Of  course,  we  know  that  all  is  no'  right  in  Amer- 
ica. The  men  of  money  have  too  much  power.  The 
governmen'  is  confuse',  sometimes  very  weak  and 
foolish.  The  newspapers  don'  tell  all  the  things  they 
shouT.  But  it  is  so  healthy,  jus'  the  same!  There  is 
so  much  chance  for  ever'  kin'  of  idea  to  be  hear' !  An' 
so  many  won'erful  books!  Often  I  think  you  real 
Americans  don'  know  how  won'erful  it  is.  You  get 
excite'  abou'  little  things.  I  love  America.  The 


YOUTH  219 

women  are  free  there.  There  is  more  hope  there  than 
anywhere  else  in  the  worl'.  An'  I  wish  China  coul' 
be  like  that." 

"I  quit  college,"  said  he.  "You  see,  I've  never 
looked  at  things  as  you  do." 

"Bu'  you  have  such  a  won'erful  chance!" 

"I  know.  And  I've  wasted  it.  But  I'm  changing. 
I — it  wouldn't  be  fair  of  course  to  talk  about — about 
what  I  was  talking  about — not  now — but  I  am  seeing 
things — everything — through  new  eyes.  They're  your 
eyes.  I'm  going  at  the  thing  differently.  You  see, 
the  Kanes,  when  you  get  right  down  to  it,  don't  think 
about  anything  but  money." 

"I  like  to  think  about  beauty,"  said  she. 

"I  wonder  if  I  could  do  that." 

"Why  no'?" 

"Well — it's  kind  of  a  new  idea." 

"Listen!"  she  reached  out,  plainly  without  a  per- 
sonal thought,  and  took  his  hand.  "I'm  going  to  red' 
some  poetry  that  I  love." 

Thrilled  by  the  clasp  of  her  hand,  his  mind  eager 
wax  to  the  impress  of  her  stronger  mind,  his  gaze 
clinging  to  her  pretty  mouth,  he  listened  while  she 
repeated  the  little  poem  of  W.  B.  Yeats  beginning : 

"All  the  words  that  I  utter, 

And  all  the  words  that  I  write . . . " 

At  first  he  stirred  restlessly;  then  watching,  dog- 
like,  fell  to  listening.  The  disconcerting  thing  was 


220  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

that  it  could  mean  so  much  to  her.  For  it  did — her 
dark  eyes  were  bright,  and  her  chin  was  uplifted.  Her 
quaint  accent  and  her  soft,  sweet  voice  touched  his 
spirit  with  an  exquisite  vague  pain. 

"It  is  music,"  said  she. 

"I  don't  see  how  you  remember  it  all,"  said  he 
listlessly. 

"Jus'  the  soun's.  Oh,  it  woul'  be  won'erful  to 
make  words  do  that.  So  often  I  wish  I  ha'  been  born 
American,  so  it  woul'  be  my  language  too." 

She  fent  on,  breathlessly,  with  Yeats's — 

"When  you  are  old  and  gray  and  full  of  sleep. .  ." 

And  then,  still  in  pensive  vein,  she  took  up  Kip- 
ling's L'Envoi — the  one  beginning — "There's  a 
whisper  down  the  field."  Clearly  she  felt  the  sea, 
too;  and  the  yearning  of  those  wandering  souls  to 
whom  life  is  a  wistful  adventure  and  the  world  an 
inviting  labyrinth  of  beautiful  hours.  She  seemed  to 
know  the  Child's  Garden  of  Verses  from  cover  to  cover, 
and  other  verse  of  Stevenson's.  It  was  all  strange  to 
him,  except  "In  winter  I  get  up  at  night."  He  knew 
that  as  a  song. 

And  so  it  came  about  that  on  a  dingy  Yangtze 
junk,  at  the  feet  of  a  Manchu  girl  from  America, 
Rocky  Kane  felt  for  the  first  time  the  glow  and  thrill 
of  finely  rhythmical  English. 

She  went  on,  almost  as  if  she  had  forgotten  him. 
William  Watson's  April,  April  she  loved,  she  said,  and 


YOUTH  221 

read  it  with  a  quick  feeling  for  the  capricious  blend  of 
smiles  and  tears.  It  dawned  on  him  that  she  was  a 
born  actress.  He  did  not  know,  of  course,  that  the 
theatrical  tradition  lies  deeper  in  Manchu  and  Chinese 
culture  than  in  that  of  any  Western  people. 

She  recited  the  beautiful  Song  of  Richard  Le  Gal- 
liene,  beginning: 

"She's  somewhere  in  the  sunlight  strong...." 

And  followed  this  with  bits  from  Bliss  Carman,  and 
other  bits  from  Henley's  London  Nocturnes,  and  from 
Wilfred  Blunt  and  Swinburne  and  Mrs.  Browning. 
She  had  a  curiously  strong  feeling  for  the  color  of 
Medieval  Italy.  She  spoke  reverently  of  Dante.  Vil- 
lon she  knew,  too,  and  Racine  and  the  French  classi- 
cists. She  even  murmured  tenderly  de  Musset's  J'ai 
dis  a  man  coeur,  in  French  of  which  he  caught  not  a 
word  and  was  ashamed.  For  he  had  cut  French,  too. 
And  then,  as  the  sun  mounted  higher  and  the 
gentle  rush  of  the  river  along  the  hull  and  the  contin- 
uous chantey  of  the  oarsmen  floated  more  and  more 
soothingly  to  their  ears,  they  fell  quiet,  her  hand  still 
pleasantly  in  his.  Together  they  hummed  certain  of 
the  current  popular  songs,  he  thinking  them  good,  she 
smiling  not  unhappily  as  her  voice  blended  prettily 
with  his.  And  Griggsby  Doane  heard  them. 

At  last  she  murmured :  "I  think  I  coul'  rest  now." 
"I'm  glad,"  said  he,  and  drew  down  a  coil  of  rope 
for  a  pillow,  and  left  her  sleeping  there. 


222  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 


Doane  heard  his  step,  but  for  a  moment  could  not 
lift  his  head.  Finally  the  boy,  standing  respectfully, 
( spoke  his  name:  "Mr.  Doane!" 

"Yes." 

"May  I  sit  here  with  you?" 

"Of  course.     Do." 

"I've  got  to  talk  to  somebody.  It's  so  strange.  You 
see,  she  and  I — Miss  Hui  Fei — it's  all  been  such  a 
whirl  I  couldn't  think,  but " 

That  sentence  never  got  finished.  The  boy  dropped 
down  on  the  deck  and  clasped  his  knees.  Doane,  very 
gravely,  considered  him.  He  was  young,  fresh,  slim. 
He  had  changed,  definitely;  a  degree  of  quiet  had 
come  to  him.  And  there  could  be  no  mistaking  the 
unearthly  light  in  his  eyes.  The  love  that  is  color  and 
sunshine  and  exquisite  song  had  touched  and  trans- 
formed him. 

Doane  could  not  speak.  He  waited.  Young  Kane 
finally  brought  himself  with  obvious,  earnest  effort  in 
a  sense  to  earth.  But  his  voice  was  unsteady  in  a 
boyish  way. 

"Mr.  Doane,"  he  asked,  "do  you  believe  in 
miracles?" 

Thoughtfully,  deliberately,  Doane  bowed  his  great 
head.  "I  am  forced  to,"  he  replied. 

"You've  seen  men  change — from  dirty,  selfish 
brutes,  I  mean,  to  something  decent,  worth  while?" 

"Many  times." 


YOUTH  223 

"Really?. .  .  .But  does  it  have  to  be  religion?" 

"I  don't  know." 

"Can  it  be  love?  The  influence  of  a  woman,  I 
mean — a  girl?" 

"Might  that  not  be  more  or  less  the  same  thing?" 

"Do  you  really  think  that?" 

Again  the  great  head  bowed.  And  there  was  a 
long  silence.  Rocky  broke  it. 

"I  wish  you  would  tell  me  exactly  how  you  feel 
about  marriage  between  the  races." 

"Why— really— " 

"You  must  have  observed  a  lot,  all  these  years 
out  here.  And  the  pater  tells  me  that  you're  an  able 
man,  except  that  you've  sort  of  lost  your  perspective. 
He  did  tell  me  that  he'd  like  to  have  you  with  him,  if 
you  could  only  bring  yourself  around  to  our  ways." 
Rocky,  even  now,  could  see  this  only  as  a  profound 
compliment.  He  rushed  on :  "Oh,  don't  misunder- 
stand me !  She  doesn't  love  me  yet.  How  could  she  ? 
I've  got  to  earn  the  right  even  to  speak  of  it  again. 
But  if  I  should  earn  the  right — in  time — tell  me,  could 
an  American  make  her  happy?" 

"I'm  afraid  I  can't  answer  that  general  question." 

But  Rocky  felt  that  he  was  kind.  "The  pater  says 
I'd  be  wrecking  my  life.  He  says  she'd  always  be 
pulled  two  ways — you  know!  God!  He  seemed  to 
think  I  had  only  to  ask  her,  and  she'd  come.  He 
doesn't  understand." 

"No,"  said  Doane — "I'm  afraid  he  couldn't  under- 
stand." 


224  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

"You  feel  that  too?  It's  very  perplexing.  I  know 
I've  spoken  carelessly  about  the  Chinese  and  Manchus. 
I  looked  down  on  them.  I  did !  But  oh,  if  I  could  only 
make  it  clear  to  you  how  I  feel  now !  If  I  could  only 
express  it!  We've  been  talking  a  long  time,  she  and 
I.  I  don't  mind  telling  you  I'm  taking  a  pretty  bitter 
lesson,  right  now.  She  knows  so  much.  She  has  such 
fine — well,  ideals — " 

"Certainly." 

"Oh,  you've  noticed  that !....  Well,  I  feel  crude 
beside  her.  Of  course,  I  am." 

"Yes — you  are.  Even  more  so  than  you  can  hope 
to  perceive  now." 

The  youth  winced;  but  took  it.  "Well,  suppose — 
just  suppose  that  I  might,  one  of  these  days,  prove 
that  I'm  decent  enough  to  ask  her  to  be  my  wife. . . . 
Oh,  don't  think  for  a  minute  that  I  don't  understand 
all  it  means.  I  do.  I  tell  you  I'm  starting  again.  I'm 
going  to  fight  it  out." 

"That  is  fine,"  said  Griggsby  Doane,  and  looked 
squarely,  gravely,  at  the  very  young  face.  It  was  a 
white  face,  but  good  in  outline;  the  forehead,  particu- 
larly, was  good.  And  the  blue  eyes  now  met  his.  "I 
believe  you  will  fight  it  out.  And  I  believe  you  have 
it  in  you  to  win." 

"I'm  going  to  try,  Mr.  Doane.  But  just  suppose 
I  do  win.  And  suppose  I  win  her.  It's  when  I  think 
of  that,  that  I. . .  .I'll  put  it  this  way — to  my  friends, 
to  everybody  in  New  York,  she'd  be  an  oddity.  A 


YOUTH  225 

novelty,  not  much  more.  You  know  what  most  of 
them  would  think,  in  their  hearts.  Either  they'd  make 
an  exception  in  her  case — partly  on  my  account,  at 
that — or  else  they'd  look  down  on  her.  You  know 
how  they  are  about  people  that  aren't — well,  the  same 
color  that  we  are.  Probably  I  couldn't  live  out  here. 
The  business  is  mainly  in  New  York,  of  course.  And 
she's  such  an  enthusiastic  American  herself — she'd 
want  to  be  there.  Some,  anyway.  And  she's  got  to 
be  happy.  She's  like  a  flower  to  me,  now;  like  an 

orchid.     Oh,  a  thousand  times  more,  but What 

could  I  do  ?  How  could  I  plan  ?  Oh,  I'd  fight  for  her 
quick  enough.  But  you  know  our  cold  rich  Americans. 
They  wouldn't  let  me  fight.  They'd  just " 

"My  boy,"  said  Doane,  quietly  but  with  an  author- 
ity that  Rocky  felt,  "you  can't  plan  that.     You  can 
.  do  only  one  thing." 

"What  thing?" 

"Stay  here  in  China  a  year  before  you  offer  your- 
self to  that  lovely  girl.  Study  the  Chinese — their 
language,  their  philosophy,  their  art.  A  year  will  not 
advance  you  far,  but  it  should  be  enough  to  show  you 
where  you  yourself  stand." 

"A  year. . . . !" 

"Listen  to  what  I  am  going  to  try  to  tell  you. 
Listen  as  thoughtfully  as  you  can.  First  I  must  tell 
you  this — the  Chinese  civilization  has  been — in  certain 
aspects  still  remains — the  finest  the  world  has  known. 
With  one  exception,  doubtless." 

"What  exception?" 


226  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

"The  Grecian.    You  see,  I  have  startled  you." 

"Well,  I'm  still  sort  of  bewildered." 

"Naturally.  But  try  to  think  with  me.  The 
Chinese  worked  out  their  social  philosophy  long  ago. 
They  have  lived  through  a  great  deal  that  we  have 
only  begun,  from  tribal  struggles  through  conquest 
and  imperialism  and  civil  war  to  a  sort  of  republicanism 
and  a  fine  feeling  for  peace  and  justice.  And  then, 
when  they  had  given  up  primitive  desire  for  fighting 
they  were  conquered  by  more  primitive  Northern 
tribes — first  the  Mongols,  and  later  the  Manchus. 
The  Manchus  have  been  absorbed,  have  become  more 
or  less  Chinese. 

"And  now  a  few  more  blunt  facts  that  will  further 
startle  you.  The  Chinese  are  the  most  democratic  peo- 
ple in  the  world.  No  ruler  can  long  resist  the  quiet 
force  of  the  scores  of  thousands  of  villages  and  neigh- 
borhoods of  the  empire. 

"They  are  the  most  reasonable  people  in  the  world. 
You  can  no  more  judge  them  from  the  so-called  Tongs 
in  New  York  and  San  Francisco,  made  up  of  a  few 
Cantonese  expatriates,  than  you  can  judge  the  culture 
of  England  by  the  beachcombers  of  the  South  Seas. 

"They  developed,  centuries  before  Europe,  one  of 
the  finest  schools  of  painting  the  world  has  so  far 
known.  There  is  no  school  of  reflective,  philosophical 
poetry  so  ripe  and  so  fine  as  the  Chinese.  They  have 
had  fifty  Wordsworths,  if  no  Shakespeare. 

"You  will  find  Americans  confusing  them  with  the 
Japanese,  whom  they  resemble  only  remotely.  All 


YOUTH  227 

that  is  finest  in  Japan — in  art  and  literature — came 
originally  from  China." 

"You  take  my  breath  away,"  said  Rocky  slowly. 
But  he  was  humble  about  it ;  and  that  was  good. 

"But  listen,  please.  What  I  am  trying  to  make 
clear  to  you  is  that  in  old  Central  China — in  Hang 
Chow,  and  along  this  fertile  Yangtze  Valley,  and 
northwest  through  the  Great  Plain  to  Kai  Feng-fu  and 
Sian-fu  in  Shensi — where  the  older  people  flourished 
— germinated  the  thought  and  the  art,  the  humanity 
and  the  faith,  that  have  been  a  source  of  culture  to  half 
the  world  during  thousands  of  years. 

"But  you  can  not  hope  to  understand  this  culture 
through  Western  eyes.  For  you  will  be  looking  out 
of  a  Western  background.  You  must  actually  sur- 
render your  background.  It  is  no  good  looking  at  a 
Chinese  landscape  or  a  portrait  with  eyes  that  have 
known  only  European  painting.  Can  you  see  why? 
Because  all  through  European  painting  runs  the  idea 
of  copying  nature — somehow,  however  subtly,  how- 
ever influenced  by  the  nuances  of  color  and  light,  copy- 
ing. But  the  Chinese  master  never  copied  a  landscape. 
He  studied  it,  felt  it,  surrendered  his  soul  to  it,  and 
then  painted  the  fine  emotion  that  resulted.  And, 
remember  this,  he  painted  with  a  conscious  technical 
skill  as  fine  as  that  of  Velasquez  or  Whistler  or 
Monet" 

The  youth  whistled  softly.  "Wait,  Mr.  Doane, 
please ....  the  fact  is,  you're  clean  over  my  head.  I 
— I  don't  know  a  thing  about  our  painting,  let  alone 


228  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

theirs.  You  see  I  haven't  put  in  much  time  at — "  He 
stopped.  His  smooth  young  brows  were  knit  in  the 
effort  to  think  along  new,  puzzling  channels.  "But 
she  would  understand,"  he  added,  honestly,  softly. 

"Exactly!     She  would  understand.     That  is  what 
I  am  trying  to  make  clear  to  you." 

"But  you're  sort  of — well,  overwhelming  me." 
"My  boy,"  said  Doane  very  kindly,  "you  could  go 
back  home,  enter  business,  marry  some  attractive  girl 
of  your  own  blood  who  thinks  no  more  deeply  than 
yourself,  whose  culture  is  as  thinly  veneered  as  your 
own — forgive  me.  I  am  speaking  blunt  facts." 
"Go  on.  I'm  trying  to  understand." 
" — And  find  happiness,  in  the  sense  that  we  so 
carelessly  use  the  word.  But  here  you  are,  in  China, 
proposing  to  offer  your  life  to  a  Manchu  princess. 
You  do  seem  to  see  clearly  that  there  would  be  diffi- 
culties. It  is  true  that  our  people  crudely  feel  them- 
selves superior  to  this  fine  old  race.  As  a  matter  of 
fact,  one  of  the  worthiest  tasks  left  in  the  world  is 
to  explain  East  to  West — draw  some  part  of  this  rich 
old  culture  in  with  our  own  more  limited  background. 
But  as  it  stands  now,  the  current  will  be  against  you. 
So  I  say  this — study  China.  Open  your  mind  and 
heart  to  the  beauty  that  is  here  for  the  taking.  Try 
to  look  through  the  decadent  surface  of  this  tired  old 
race  and  see  the  genius  that  still  slumbers  within.  If, 
then,  you  find  yourself  in  the  new  belief  that  their 
culture  is  in  certain  respects  finer  than  ours — as  I 
myself  have  been  forced  to  believe — if  you  can  go  to 


YOUTH  229 

Hui  Fei  humbly — then  ask  her  to  be  your  wife.  For 
then  there  will  be  a  chance  that  you  can  make  her 
happy.  Not  otherwise." 

Doane  stopped  abruptly.  His  deep  voice  was  rich 
with  emotion.  The  boy  was  stirred;  and  a  moment 
later,  when  he  felt  a  huge  hand  on  his  shoulder  he 
found  it  necessary  to  fight  back  the  tears.  The  man 
seemed  like  a  father;  the  sort  of  father  he  had  never 
known. 

"Don't  ask  her  so  long  as  a  question  remains  in 
your  mind.  Defiance  won't  do — it  must  be  faith,  and 
knowledge.  I  can't  let  you  take  the  life  of  that  girl 
into  your  keeping  on  any  other  terms." 

The  odd  emphasis  of  this  speech  passed  quite  by 
the  deeply  preoccupied  young  mind. 

"You're  right,"  he  replied  brokenly.  "I've  got  to 
wait.  Everything  that  you  say  is  true — I  really 
haven't  a  thing  in  the  world  to  offer.  I'm  an  ignorant 
barbarian  beside  her." 

"You  have  the  great  gift  of  youth,"  said  Doane 
gently. 

But  a  moment  later  Rocky  broke  out  with :  "But, 
Mr.  Doane — how  can  I  wait?  She — after  her  father 
— they're  going  to  take  her  away — make  her  marry 
somebody  at  Peking — somebody  she  doesn't  even 
know — " 

"I  don't  think  they  will  succeed  in  that  plan,"  said 
Doane  very  soberly. 

"But  why  not?  What  can  she  do?  A  girl — 
alone — " 


230  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

"There  are  tens  of  thousands  of  girls  in  China  that 
have  solved  that  problem." 

"But  I  don't  see—" 

"You  must  still  try  to  keep  your  mind  open.  You 
are  treading  on  ground  unknown  to  our  race."  A 
breathless  quality  crept  into  Doane's  voice;  his  eyes 
were  fixed  on  the  distant  river  bank.  "I  wonder  if  I 
can  help  you  to  understand.  Death — the  thought  of 
death — is  to  them  a  very  different  thing — " 

"Oh !"  It  was  more  a  sharp  indrawing  of  breath 
than  an  exclamation.  "You  don't  mean  that  she  would 
do  that?" 

Doane  bowed  his  head. 

"But  she  couldn't  do  a  cowardly  thing-" 

Doane  brought  himself,  with  difficulty,  to  utter 
the  blunt  word.  "Suicide,  in  China,  is  not  always 
cowardice.  Often  it  is  the  finest  heroism — the  holding 
to  a  fine  standard." 

"Oh,  no !    It  wouldn't  ever—" 

"Please !  You  arc-  a  Westerner.  Your  feelings  are 
those  of  the  younger — yes,  the  cruder  half  of  the 
world.  I  must  still  ask  you  to  try  to  believe  that  there 
can  be  other  sorts  of  feelings."  Again  the  great  hand 
rested  solidly  on  the  young  shoulder ;  and  now,  at  last, 
the  boy  became  slightly  aware  of  the  suffering  in  the 
heart  of  this  older  man.  Though  even  now  he  could 
not  grasp  every  implication.  That  human  love  might 
be  a  cause  he  did  not  perceive.  But  he  sensed,  warmly, 
the  ripe  experience  and  the  compassionate  spirit  of 
the  man. 


YOUTH  231 

"You  have  stepped  impulsively  into  an  Old-World 
drama/'  Doane  went  quietly  on — "into  a  tragedy, 
indeed.  No  one  can  say  what  the  next  developments 
will  be.  You  can  win,  if  at  all,  only  by  becoming  your- 
self, a  fatalist.  You  must  move  with  events.  Cer- 
tainly you  can  not  force  them." 

"But  I  can  take  her  away,"  cried  the  boy,  hotly; 
finishing,  lamely,  with  "somehow." 

"Against  her  will  ?" 

"Well— surely— " 

"She  will  not  leave  her  father." 

"But — oh,  Mr.  Doane " 

He  fell  silent.  For  a  long  time  they  sat  without 
a  word,  side  by  side.  Here  and  there  about  the  junk 
sleepers  awoke  and  moved  about.  A  few  of  the  women, 
forward,  set  up  their  wailing  but  more  quietly  now. 
The  craft  headed  in  gradually  toward  the  right  bank, 
passing  a  yellow  junk  that  was  moored  inshore  and 
moving  on  some  distance  up-stream.  At  a  short  dis- 
tance inland  a  brown-gray  village  nestled  under  a 
hillside. 

"That  junk  passed  us  before  we  left  the  island," 
Rocky  observed,  gloomily  making  talk. 

Doane's  ga2e  followed  his  down-stream;  then  at  a 
sound  like  distant  thunder,  he  turned  and  listened. 

"What's  that?"  asked  the  boy. 

Doane  looked  up  into  the  cloudless,  blazing  sky. 

"That  would  be  the  guns  at  Hankow,"  he  replied. 


232  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

6 

The  lictors  were  landed  first  to  seek  carts  in  the 
village.  Then  all  were  taken  ashore  in  the  small  boat. 
His  excellency  smilingly,  with  unfailing  poise,  talked 
with  Doane  of  the  beauties  of  the  river;  even  quoted 
his  favorite  Li  Po,  as  his  quiet  eyes  surveyed  the  hills 
that  bordered  the  broad  river : 

"  'The  birds  have  all  flown  to  their  trees, 
The  last,  last  lovely  cloud  has  drifted  off, 

But  we  never  tire  in  our  companionship — 
The  mountains  and  I.' ' 

The  line  of  unpainted,  springless  carts,  roofed  with 
arched  matting,  yellow  with  the  fine  dust  of  the  high- 
way, moved,  squeaking,  off  among  the  hills.  Follow- 
ing close  went  the  women  and  the  servants.  The  junk 
swung  deliberately  out  and  off  down  the  river. 

Doane,  declining  a  cart,  walked  beside  that  of  his 
excellency;  Rocky  Kane,  deadly  pale,  his  mouth  set 
firmly,  beside  Miss  Hui  Fei.  And  so,  through  the 
peaceful  country-side  they  came  to  the  long  brick  wall 
and  the  heavily  timbered  gate  house  by  the  road,  and, 
pausing  there,  heard  very  faintly  the  soft  tinkling  of 
the  little  bronze  bells  within.  It  was  late  afternoon. 
The  shadows  were  long;  and  the  evening  birds  were 
twittering  among  the  leafy  branches  just  within  the 
wall. 


CHAPTER  XI 

THE  LANDSCAPE  SCROLL  OF  CHAO  MENG-FU 

'T'O  Rocky  Kane  the  few  hours  that  followed  were 
to  exist  in  memory  as  a  confused  sequence  of 
swift -pressing  scenes,  all  highly  colored,  vivid ;  certain 
of  them  touched  with  horror,  others  passing  in  a  flash 
of  exotic  beauty;  while  the  fire  of  hot,  unreasoning 
young  love  burned  all  but  unbearably  within  his 
breast. 

He  would  remember  the  crowded  line  of  carts  in 
the  sunken  narrow  road,  the  unruly  mules  that  plunged 
and  entangled  their  harness;  the  huddled  women;  the 
yellow  dust  that  clung  thickly  to  the  bright  silks  of  the 
mandarins ;  the  confusion  about  the  gate,  and  the  hand- 
ful of  soldiers  that  came  hurrying  forward  to  help  in 
a  strange  business  up  there;  the  trains  of  other  carts 
that  struggled  to  pass  in  the  narrow  way,  while  tat- 
tered muleteers  shouted  a  babel  of  invective. 

He  would  remember  the  sad  face  of  Miss  Hui  Fei, 
drawn  back  within  the  shadow  of  the  cart  and  the 
faint  smiles  that  came  and  so  quickly  went;  and  the 
efforts  he  made,  at  first,  to  cheer  her  with  boyishly 
bright  talk  of  this  and  that. 

233 


234  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

He  would  remember  how  he  made  his  way  forward 
through  the  press,  without  recalling  what  had  just 
been  said,  or  what,  precisely,  could  have  been  the 
impulse  driving  him  on;  past  his  excellency — sitting 
yet  in  his  cart,  calmly  waiting,  while  the  drabbled  man- 
darins stood  respectfully  by;  and  how  he  found  the 
soldiers  carrying  oddly  limp  bodies  into  one  of  the 
gate  houses,  hiding  them  there. 

He  would  remember  the  picture  on  which  he 
stumbled  as  he  rounded  the  inner  screen  of  brick ;  Mr. 
Doane  and  an  officer  and  two  or  three  soldiers  stand- 
ing thoughtfully  about  a  fat  body  in  spattered  silks 
that  was  hideously  without  a  head;  standing  there  in 
the  half  dusk — for  the  shadows  were  lengthening  softly 
into  evening  here  under  the  trees — Mr.  Doane  then 
bending  over,  the  officer  kneeling,  to  examine  the 
embroidery  on  the  breast;  and  then  two  soldiers 
bringing  up  a  pole  on  the  end  of  which  grinned  the 
missing  head ;  and  then  the  sound  of  his  own  voice — 
curiously  breathless  and  without  body,  asking,  "What 
is  it,  Mr.  Doane  ?  What  terrible  thing  has  happened  ?" 
And  then,  even  while  he  was  speaking,  four  soldiers 
carrying  another  body  by,  this  of  a  stout  man  in  shirt 
and  flannel  trousers,  that  he  felf  he  had  seen  somewhere 
before. 

He  would  remember — when  they  had  carried  out 
the  last  awful  reminder  of  the  bloodshed  that  had  been, 
and  while  Mr.  Doane  pressed  a  hand  to  his  eyes  as  if 
in  prayer — how  he  stood  silent  there  on  the  gravel 
area,  looking  up  into  the  trees  and  about  at  the  dim 


THE  LANDSCAPE  SCROLL  235 

quaint  pen-lows  on  either  hand  and  at  the  pavilions 
behind  them,  each  on  its  arch  of  stone  over  placid  dark 
water;  and  how  the  lightly  moving-  air  of  evening 
whispered  through  the  trees,  stirring,  with  the  foliage, 
faintly  musical  little  bells ;  and  how,  into  this  moment 
of  calm,  appeared,  light  of  step,  swinging  her  shop- 
ping bag  as  she  descended  the  marble  steps  of 
the  pavilion  at  the  right  and  came  forward  under  the 
pai-lows,  the  pale  girl,  Dixie  Carmichael,  who  glanced 
respectfully  toward  Mr.  Doane,  and  at  Rocky  himself 
raised  her  black  eyebrows  while  her  thin  lips  softly 
framed  the  one  word,  "You?"  And  then,  after  a  few 
words — the  girl  said  that  Tex  Connor  and  the  Manila 
Kid  made  her  come;  it  had  been  a  terrible  business; 
she  thought  both  must  have  been  killed ;  she  had  con- 
trived to  hide — how  Mr.  Doane  asked  him  to  take  her 
back  to  the  women;  and  how  they  went,  he  and  she, 
his  heart  beating  hotly,  out  through  the  darkening 
gate  where  paper  lanterns  now  moved  about.  He 
felt  that  for  the  first  sharp  blow  at  his  new  life.  There 
would  be  other  blows ;  doubtless  through  this  girl ;  for 
the  old  life  would  not  give  him  up  without  a  fight. 

He  was  to  forget  what  they  said,  he  and  this 
unaccountable,  cool  girl,  as  he  left  her  out  there  and 
hurried  back;  but  would  remember  the  picture  he 
found  on  his  return — Mr.  Doane  striding  off  deliber- 
ately into  the  darkness  beyond  the  little  white  bridges, 
while  the  officer  followed  with  a  lantern,  and  the  few 
soldiers,  also  with  lanterns,  straggled  after.  He  would 
remember  crowding  himself  past  all  of  them,  snatching 


236  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

one  of  the  lanterns  as  he  ran,  and  falling  into  step  at 
the  side  of  the  huge  determined  man. 

There  were  broad  courtyards,  then,  and  buildings 
with  heavily  curving  roofs  and  columns  richly  colored 
and  carved,  with  dim  lights  behind  windows  of  paper 
squares.  There  were  drunken  soldiers,  who  ran 
away,  and  screaming  women,  and  other  women  who 
would  never  scream  or  smile  again.  There  was  litter 
and  splintered  furniture  and  a  broken-in  door  here 
and  there.  There  was  a  familiar  big  soldier  who 
plunged  at  Mr.  Doane  with  a  glinting  blade  in  his 
hand;  and  then  a  sharp  struggle  that  was  to  last,  in 
retrospect,  but  an  instant  of  time,  for  the  clearer  mem- 
ory was  of  himself  binding  with  his  handkerchief  a 
small  cut  in  Mr.  Doane's  forearm  while  the  soldiers 
carried  out  a  wounded  struggling  giant,  and  then 
shouts  and  shots  from  the  courtyard  when  the  giant 
escaped.  And  he  would  remember  picking  up  an  unset 
ruby  from  the  tiling  and  handing  it  to  Mr.  Doane. 
There  was  the  picture,  then,  of  a  melancholy  proces- 
sion winding  slowly  through  the  grove  with  bobbing 
gay  lanterns. 

And  finally,  to  the  boy  incredibly,  the  place  came 
into  a  degree  of  order  and  calm.  Women  and  men 
disappeared  into  this  building  and  that.  Rocky  sat 
alone  on  the  steps  of  a  structure  that  might  have  been 
a  temple,  hands  supporting  his  throbbing  head.  The 
moonlight  streamed  down  into  the  courtyard ;  he  could 
see  the  grotesque  ornaments  on  the  eaves  of  the  build- 
ings, and  the  large  blue-and-white  bowls  and  vases  in 


THE  LANDSCAPE  SCROLL  237 

which  grew  flowering1  plants  and  dwarfed  trees  from 
Japan,  and,  in  the  farther  gate,  a  sentry  lounging. 
Now  and  again  faint  sounds  came  from  within  the 
largest  of  the  buildings,  voices  and  footsteps;  and  he 
could  see  lights  again  dimly  through  the  paper.  He 
wondered  what  they  might  be  doing. . . .  His 
thoughts  were  a  fever.  The  spirit  of  Hui  Fei  hovered 
like  an  exquisite  dream  there,  but  crowding  in  with 
malignant  persistence  came,  kept  coming,  pictures  of 
Dixie  Carmichael.  He  wondered  where  they  had  put 
her.  Perhaps  she  was  already  asleep.  It  would  be 
like  her  to  sleep.  She  was  so  cold,  so  oddly  unhealthy. 
Doubtless,,  surely,  he  would  have  to  speak  with  her. 

He  must  have  dozed.  Soldiers  were  dragging 
themselves  sleepily  about  the  courtyard,  rifles  in  hand. 
Two  officers  and  a  mandarin  in  a  gown  were  examin- 
ing a  paper  by  the  light  of  a  lantern.  Then  Mr.  Doane 
came  out  and  read  the  paper.  They  talked  in  Chinese, 
Mr.  Doane's  as  fluent  as  theirs.  Rocky  thought 
drowsily  about  this;  considered  vaguely  the  years  of 
study  and  experience  that  must  lie  back  of  that  fluency. 

Mr.  Doane,  indeed,  seemed  to  be  assuming  a  sort 
of  command.  With  great  courtesy,  but  with  impressive 
finality,  he  appeared  to  be  outlining  a  course  to  which 
the  mandarin  assented.  The  officers  bowed  and  went 
out  through  the  gate.  And  when  the  mandarin  and 
Doane  then  turned  and  entered  the  largest  building  it 
was  the  white  man  who  held  the  paper  in  his  hand. 

Rocky  fell  again  into  a  doze;  slept  until  he  found 
Mr.  Doane  shaking  him. 


238  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

"Come  with  me  now.  You  can  help."  Thus  the 
huge  grave  man  with  the  deep  shadows  in  his  face. 

And  Rocky  went  with  him,  guided  by  a  servant 
with  a  lantern,  through  corridors  and  courtyards, 
glimpsing  dimly  massive  pillars  and  panels  in  black 
wood  and  softly  red  silk  and  railings  of  marble  carved 
into  exquisite  tracery. 

2 

With  the  paper  that  the  boy  had  drowsily  observed 
Doane  sought  his  excellency.  Dominated  by  the  white 
man  the  attendant  mandarin  tapped  at  an  inner  door, 
then  hesitatingly  opened;  and  Doane  alone  stepped 
within. 

The  room  was  long,  plain,  obscurely  seen  by  the 
light  of  a  single  incandescent  lamp  over  the  formal 
kang  or  platform  across  the  farther  end.  Doane  had 
not  thought  of  electric  light  in  here  and  found  it 
momentarily  surprising.  The  walls  were  paneled  in 
silk;  the  ceiling  was  heavy  with  beams.  Against 
either  side  wall,  mathematically  at  the  center,  stood  a 
square  small  table  and  a  square  stool,  heavily  carved. 
Seated  on  the  kang,  with  papers  spread  about  and 
brushes  and  ink  pot  directly  under  the  light,  in  short 
quilted  coat  and  simple  black  cap,  was  Kang;  a  serenely 
patient  figure,  quietly  working.  He  had  merely  looked 
up;  a  frail  old  man,  quite  beyond  the  reach  of  annoy- 
ance, whose  eyes  gazed  unafraid  over  the  rim  of  mere 
personal  life  into  the  eternal,  tireless  energy  that 
would  so  soon  absorb  all  that  was  himself.  Then,  rec- 


THE  LANDSCAPE  SCROLL  239 

ognizing  the  stalwart  figure  that  moved  forward  into 
the  light,  he  rose  and  clasped  his  hands  and  smiled. 

"Only  an  unexpected  crisis  would  lead  me  to 
intrude  thus,"  began  Doane  in  Chinese,  bowing  in 
courtly  fashion  and  clasping  his  own  hands  before  his 
breast. 

"No  visit  from  Griggsby  Doane  could  be  regarded 
as  an  intrusion  in  my  home,"  replied  his  excellency. 

"I  will  speak  quickly,  in  the  Western  fashion," 
Doane  went  on.  "His  Excellency,  the  General  Duke 
Ma  Ch'un,  commanding  before  Hankow,  writes  that 
he  regrets  deeply  the  violent  death  of  the  eunuch, 
Chang  Yuan-fu  on  your  excellency's  premises  while 
dutifully  engaged  on  the  business  of  her  imperial 
majesty,  and  cordially  requests  that  your  excellency 
come  at  once  to  headquarters  as  his  personal  guest  to 
assist  him  in  making  an  inquiry  into  the  tragedy.  He 
supplements  this  invitation  with  a  copy  of  a  telegram 
from  His  Excellency,  Yuan  Shih-k'ai,  commanding 
him  to  guard  at  once  your  person  and  property." 

The  simple  elderly  man  who  had  been  a  minister, 
a  grand  councilor  and  a  viceroy,  seemed  to  recoil 
slightly  as  his  eyes  drooped  to  the  papers  about  him; 
then  he  reached,  with  a  withered  hand  that  trembled, 
for  this  new  paper  and  very  slowly  read  it  through. 

"His  Excellency,  Duke  Ma  Ch'un,"  Doane  added 
gently,  "has  sent  a  company  of  soldiers  to  escort  you 
fittingly  to  his  headquarters.  They  are  waiting  now 
at  the  outermost  gate.  I  took  it  upon  myself  in  this 
hour  of  sorrow  and  confusion  to  advise  them,  through 


240  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

the  mouths  of  your  loyal  officers,  that  your  excellency 
is  not  to  be  disturbed  before  dawn." 

Slowly,  with  an  expressionless  face,  the  viceroy 
folded  the  paper  and  laid  it  on  the  kang.  He  sank, 
then,  beside  it;  with  visible  effort  indicating  that  his 
visitor  sit  as  well.  But  Doane  remained  standing— 
enormously  tall,  broad,  strong;  a  man  to  command 
without  question  of  rank  or  authority;  a  man,  it 
appeared,  hardly  conscious  of  the  calm  power  of  per- 
sonality that  was  so  plainly  his. 

"Your  Excellency  is  aware" — thus  Doane  said — 
"that  to  admit  the  authority  of  Duke  Ma  Ch'un  at  this 
sorrowful  time  is  to  submit  both  yourself  and  your 
lovely  daughter  to  a  fate  that  is  wholly  undeserved, 
one  that  I — if  I  may  term  myself  the  friend  of  both— 
can  not  bring  myself  to  consider  without  indulging  the 
wish  to  offer  strong  resistance.  It  has  been  said,  'The 
truly  great  man  will  always  frame  his  actions  with 
careful  regard  to  the  exigencies  of  the  moment  and 
trim  his  sail  to  the  favoring  breeze.'  Your  Excellency 
must  forgive  me  if  I  suggest  that,  whatever  value  you 
may  place  upon  your  own  life,  we  can  not  thus  abandon 
your  daughter,  Hui  Fei." 

The  viceroy's  voice,  when  he  spoke,  had  lost  much 
of  its  timbre.  It  was,  indeed,  the  voice  of  a  weary 
old  man.  Yet  the  words  came  forth  with  the  old  kindly 
dignity. 

"I  asked  you,  Griggsby  Doane,  to  make  with  me 
this  painful  journey  to  my  home.  We  did  not  know 
then  that  we  were  moving  from  one  scene  of  tragedy 


THE  LANDSCAPE  SCROLL'  241 

to  another  more  terrible.  But  motive  must  not  wait 
on  circumstance.  It  need  not  be  a  hardship  for  my 
other  children  to  live  on  in  Asia  as  Asiatics.  As 
such  they  were  born.  They  know  no  other  life.  They 
will  experience  as  much  happiness  as  most.  But  with 
Hui  Fei  it  is  different.  She  must  not  be  held  away 
from  contact  with  the  white  civilization.  I  did  not  give 
her  this  modern  education  for  such  an  end  as  that.  Hui 
Fei  is  an  experiment  that  is  not  yet  completed.  She 
must  have  her  chance.  That  is  why  I  brought  you 
here,  Griggsby  Doane.  My  daughter  must  be  got  to 
Shanghai.  There  she  has  friends.  I  have  ventured 
to  count  on  your  experience  and  good  will  to  convey 
her  safely  there.  Will  you  take  her — now  ?  To-night  ? 
I  had  meant  to  send  with  her  the  jewels  and  the  paint- 
ings of  Ming,  Sung  and  Tang.  Both  collections  are 
priceless.  But  the  gems  are  gone — to-night.  The 
paintings,  however,  remain.  Will  you  take  those  and 
my  daughter,  and  two  servants — there  are  hardly  more 
that  I  can  trust — and  slip  out  by  the  upper  gate,  and 
in  some  way  escort  her  safely  to  Shanghai  ?" 

"She  would  not  go,"  said  Doane.  "Not  while  you, 
Your  Excellency,  live,  or  while  your  body  lies  above 
ground." 

The  viceroy,  hesitating,  glanced  up  at  the  vigorous 
man  who  spoke  so  firmly,  then  down  at  the  scattered 
papers  on  the  kang.  In  the  very  calm  of  that  shadowed 
face  he  felt  the  bewildering  strength  of  the  white  race  ; 
and  he  knew  in  his  heart  that  the  man  was  not  to  be 
gainsaid.  His  mind  wavered.  For  perhaps  the  first 


242  IN  RED  AND  GOLD. 

time  in  his  shrewd,  patiently  subtle  life,  he  felt  the 
heavy  burden  of  his  years. 

"I  will  send  for  her,"  he  said  now,  slowly.  "I 
will  give  her  into  your  keeping.  At  my  command  she 
will  go." 

"No,  Your  Excellency,  I  have  already  sent  word  to 
her  to  prepare  herself  for  the  journey.  Again  you 
must  forgive  me.  Time  presses.  It  remains  only  to 
collect  the  paintings.  You  must  have  those,  at  the 
least  We  start  now  in  a  very  few  moments.  I  have 
found  here,  a  prisoner  in  your  palace,  the  master  of  a 
junk  that  lies  at  the  river  bank,  and  have  taken  it  upon 
myself  to  detain  him  further.  He  will  convey  us  to 
Shanghai.  It  is  now  but  a  few  hours  before  dawn. 
Hostile  soldiers  stand  impatient  at  the  outermost  gate, 
eager  to  heap  shame  upon  you  and  all  that  is  yours. 
You  must  change  your  clothing — the  dress  of  a  ser- 
vant would  be  best." 

He  waited,  standing  very  still. 

"You  will  forgive  indecision  in  a  man  of  my  years," 
begun  the  viceroy.  After  a  moment  he  began  again: 
"The  world  has  turned  upside  down,  Griggsby 
Doane," 

"You  will  come?" 

The  viceroy  sighed.  Trembling  fingers  reached 
out  to  gather  the  papers, 

"I  will  come,"  he  said. 


THE  LANDSCAPE  SCROLL  243 


Adrift  in  unreality,  fighting  off  from  moment  to 
moment  the  drowsy  sense  that  these  strange  events 
were  but  a  blur  of  dreams  in  which  nothing  could  be 
true,  nothing  could  matter,  Rocky  found  himself  at 
work  in  a  dim  room,  taking  down  in  great  handfuls 
from  shelves  scrolls  of  silk  wound  on  rods  of  ivory  and 
putting  them  in  lacquered  boxes.  Mr.  Doane  was  there, 
and  the  servant,  and  a  second  servant  of  lower  class,  in 
ragged  trousers  and  with  his  queue  tied  about  his 
head.  Still  another  Chinese  appeared,  shortly,  in  blue 
gown  and  sleeveless  short  jacket;  an  older  man  who 
looked,  in  the  flickering  faint  light  of  the  single  lan- 
tern, curiously  like  the  viceroy  himself.  The  first 
servant  disappeared  and  returned  with  the  short  poles 
of  bamboo  used  everywhere  in  China  in  carrying  bur- 
dens over  the  shoulder,  and  with  cords  and  squares  of 
heavy  cotton  cloth. 

Every  bit  of  woodwork  that  his  hands  touched 
in  moving  about,  Rocky  found  to  be  intricately  carved 
and  gilded  and  inlaid  with  smooth  lacquer.  And 
dimly,  crowded  about  the  walls,  he  half  saw,  half 
sensed,  innumerable  vases,  small  and  large,  with 
rounding  surfaces  of  cream-colored  crackle  and  blood- 
red  and  blue-and-white  and  green  which  threw  back 
the  moving  light  like  a  softly  changing  kaleidoscope. 
And  there  were  screens  that  gave  out,  from  their  pro- 
found shadows,  the  glint  of  gold. 

They  packed  the  boxes  together,  wrapped  the  large 


244  IN  RED  AND  GOLD! 

and  heavy  cubes  in  the  squares  of  cloth  and  lashed 
them  to  hang  from  the  bamboo  poles.  Four  of  them, 
then,  Mr.  Doane,  Rocky  himself  and  the  servants,  each 
balanced  a  pole  over  his  shoulders  and  lifted  the  bulky 
cubes.  The  old  man,  who  surely,  now,  was  the  vice- 
roy, carried  a  European  hand-bag.  There  were  other 
parcels ....  They  made  their  way  along  a  nearly  dark 
corridor  and  out  into  the  moonlight.  Here,  in  a 
porch,  stood  four  silent  figures — Dixie  Carmichael  he 
distinguished  first ;  then  Hui  Fei,  wearing  a  short  coat 
and  women's  trousers  and  a  loose  cloak.  Her  hair  was 
parted  and  lay  smoothly  on  her  pretty  head,  glistening 
in  the  moonlight ....  And  the  little  princess  was  there, 
clinging  to  the  hand  of  her  sister  and  rubbing  her  eyes. 
They  moved  silently  on,  all  together,  following  a  path 
that  wound  among  shrubbery,  over  an  arching  bridge 
to  a  gate. 

Rocky  could  dimly  see  the  timbers  studded  with 
spikes  and  the  long  hinges  of  bronze.  The  servant, 
with  a  great  key,  unlocked  the  gate,  which  closed 
softly  behind  them. 

The  pole  weighed  heavily  on  Rocky's  unaccustomed 
shoulder.  There  was  a  trick  of  timing  the  step  to  the 
swing  of  the  bales,  that,  stumbling  a  little,  he  caught. 
He  was  to  remember  this — the  little  file  of  men  and 
women  gathered  from  the  two  ends  of  the  earth  and 
walking  without  a  spoken  sound  down  through  a  twist- 
ing, sunken  Chinese  road  to  the  Yangtze.  And  sensing 
the  gathering  drama  of  his  own  life,  brooding  over  it 
with  slowly  increasing  nervous  intensity,  he  found 


THE  LANDSCAPE  SCROLL  245 

himself  coming  awake.  If  this  kept  on  he  would 
soon  be  excitedly  beyond  sleep.  But  it  didn't  matter. 
They  were  saving  Hui  Fei.  Not  a  word  of  explana- 
tion had  been  offered;  but  it  was  coming  clear.  As 
for  the  rest  of  it,  he  asked  himself  how  it  could  matter. 
The  presence  of  Miss  Carmichael,  a  dangerous  girl, 
an  adventuress — he  was  thinking  quite  youthfully 
about  her — who  might  easily  be  capable  of  anything, 
who  could  in  a  moment  destroy  the  hope  that  was  the 
only  foundation,  thus  far,  of  his  new  life,  and  perhaps 
would  choose  to  destroy  it — even  this,  he  tried  to  tell 
himself,  couldn't  possibly  matter.  Over  and  over, 
stumbling  and  shuffling  along,  he  told  himself  that; 
almost  convinced  himself  that  he  believed  it. 

He  was  to  remember  most  vividly  of  all  the  first 
glimpse,  through  a  notch  in  the  hills,  of  the  river.  The 
viceroy  paused  at  that  point,  and  turning  back  from 
the  shining  picture  before  him,  where  the  moonlight 
silvered  the  unruffled  surface  of  the  water,  toward  the 
home  of  his  ancestors  over  the  hill,  spoke  in  a  low  but 
again  musical  voice  a  few  lines  in  which  even  the 
American  youth  could  detect  the  elusive  vowel  rhymes 
of  a  Chinese  poem.  And  he  saw  that  Mr.  Doane  stood 
by  \vith  the  slightly  bowed  head  of  one  who  attends  a 
religious  ceremony.  It  was  a  moving  scene.  But 
could  he  have  understood  the  words  the  boy  would 
have  been  puzzled.  For  the  poem — the  Surrendering 
of  Po  Chu-I,  breathed  resignation,  humility,  the  nega- 
tive philosophy  so  dear  to  Chinese  tradition,  but  noth- 
ing of  religion  in  the  sense  that  he,  a  Westerner, 


246  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

understood  the  word,  nothing  of  mysticism  or  romantic 
illusion  or  childlike  faith;  rather  a  gentle  recognition 
of  the  fact  that  life  must  go  as  it  had  come,  unexplained, 
without  tangible  evidence  of  a  personal  hereafter; 
that,  too,  the  individual  is  as  nothing  in  the  vast 
scheme  of  nature. 

They  were  ferried  out,  shortly  after  this,  to  the 
great  junk  they  had  twice  seen  within  the  twenty-four 
hours,  her  smooth  sides  curving  yellow  in  the  moon- 
light, her  decks  now  scraped  and  scrubbed  clean, 
flowers  blooming  in  porcelain  pots  about  a  charming 
gallery  that  extended  high  over  the  river  astern. 
The  crew,  roused  from  slumber,  came  swarming  out 
from  under  the  low-spread  mattings.  The  laopan 
stepped  nimbly  to  his  post  amidships  on  the  poop. 
The  heavy  tracking  ropes  were  hauled  aboard,  and  the 
craft  swung  slowly  off  down  the  current. 

Doane,  with  a  lantern,  escorted  his  excellency  and 
Hui  Fei,  and  the  whimpering  little  princess,  to  the 
rooms  below ;  then  returned  and  with  the  same  imper- 
sonal courtesy  conducted  Miss  Carmichael  down  the 
steps.  But  at  the  door  he  indicated  she  stopped  short ; 
wavered  a  moment,  lightly,  on  the  balls  of  her  feet. 
Then  she  accepted  the  lantern  from  him,  bit  her  lip, 
and  let  fall  the  curtain  without  replying  to  his  sugges- 
tion that  she  had  better  sleep  if  she  could. 

Alone  there,  she  held  up  the  lantern.  The  floor 
had  been  lately  scrubbed;  but,  even  so,  she  made  out 
a  faint  broad  stain  in  the  wood.  And  a  bed  of  clean 
matting  was  spread  where  she  had  left  a  grisly  heap. 


THE  LANDSCAPE  SCROLL  247 


For  a  time  Dixie  stood  by  the  square  small  win- 
dow, looking  out  over  the  shining  river  toward  the 
dim  northern  bank  with  its  hills  that  seemed  to  drift 
at  a  snail's  pace  off  astern.  Her  quick  mind  had  never 
been  farther  from  sleep.  Her  thin  hands  felt  through 
her  blouse  the  twisted  ropes  of  pearls  that  were  wound 
about  her  waist.  Her  lips  were  pressed  tightly 
together.  These  pearls  represented  a  fortune  beyond 
even  Dixie's  calculating  dreams.  To  keep  them  suc- 
cessfully hidden  during  the  days,  perhaps  weeks  to 
come  of  floating  down  the  river  in  close  companion- 
ship with  these  two  strong  observant  men,  and  a  half 
crazy  American  boy,  and  clever  Oriental  women, 
would  test  her  resourcefulness  and  her  nerve.  Though 
she  felt,  even  now,  no  doubt  of  the  latter. .  . . 

The  thing  was  tremendous.  Now  that  the  con- 
fusion of  the  day  and  night  were  over  with,  she 
found  a  thrill  in  considering  the  problem,  while  her 
sensitive  fingers  pressed  and  pressed  again  the  hard 
little  globes.  There  were  so  many  of  them ;  such  beau- 
ties, she  knew,  in  form  and  size  and  color. . .  .Never 
again  would  such  an  opportunity  come  to  her.  It  was, 
precisely,  if  on  the  grandest  scale  imaginable,  her  sort 
of  achievement.  Tex  was  gone.  The  Kid  was  gone. 
No  one  could  claim  a  share  or  a  voice;  it  was  all  hers 
— wealth,  power,  even,  perhaps,  at  the  last,  something 
near  respectability.  For  money,  enough  of  it,  she 
knew,  will  accomplish  even  that.  While  on  the  other. 


248  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

hand,  to  fail  now,  might,  wouH,  spell  a  life  of  drab 
adventure  along  the  coast,  without  even  a  goal,  with- 
out a  decent  hope;  with,  always,  the  pitiless  years 
gaining  on  her. 

She  searched,  tiptoeing,  about  the  room,  lantern  in 
hand,  for  a  place  to  hide  her  treasure;  then  recon- 
sidered. In  some  way  she  must  keep  the  pearls  about 
her  person;  though  not,  as  now,  looped  around  her 
waist.  An  accidental  touch  there  might  start  the  fate- 
ful questioning. 

She  put  down  the  lantern;  stood  for  a  long  time 
by  the  curtained  door,  listening.  From  up  and  down 
the  passage  came  only  the  heavy  breathing  of  exhausted 
folk.  She  slipped  out  cautiously ;  made  her  way  to  the 
sloping  deck  above — how  vividly  familiar  it  was ! — tip- 
toed lightly  aft,  past  the  uncurious  helmsman,  around 
the  huge  coils  of  rope  and  the  piled-up  fenders  of  inter- 
woven matting,  out  to  the  pleasant  gallery  where  the 
flowers  were. 

And  then,  as  she  stepped  down  and  paused  to 
breathe  slowly,  deeply,  again  the  heavy-sweet  perfume 
of  the  tuberoses,  a  boyish  figure  sprang  up,  with  a 
nervous  little  gasp  of  surprise,  from  the  steamer  chair 
of  Hong  Kong  grass. 

She  said,  in  her  quiet  way,  "Oh,  hello!"  And  then, 
with  a  quick  sidelong  glance  at  him,  accepted  the  chair 
he  offered.  He  seemed  uncertain  as  to  whether  he 
would  go  or  stay.  Lowering  her  lids,  she  studied  him. 
He  was  standing  the  excitement  well,  even  improving. 
His  carriage  was  better;  he  stood  up  well  on  his 


THE  LANDSCAPE  SCROLE  249 

strong  young  legs.  And  he  was  quieter,  better  in 
hand,  though  of  course  the  never-governed,  long  over- 
stimulated  emotions  would  not  be  lying  very  deep 
beneath  this  new,  more  manly  surface.  He  was  very 
good-looking,  really  a  typical  American  boy. 

He  stood  now,  fingering  the  petals  of  a  dahlia  and 
gazing  out  astern  into  the  luminous  night.  She  pon- 
dered the  question  of  exerting  herself  again  to  win 
him.  The  money  was  there,  plenty  of  it.  He  would 
be  as  helpless  as  ever  in  her  experienced  hands.  And 
the  mere  use  of  her  skill  in  trapping  and  stripping 
him  would  be  enjoyable. . . .  He  was  lingering. 

She  decided  in  the  negative.  He  would  surely 
become  tempestuous.  And  as  surely,  if  she  permitted 
that,  he  would  discover  the  pearls.  And — again  the 
thrill  of  mastery  swept  through  her  finely  strung 
nerves — she  had  those.  They  were  enough.  But  they 
must  be  better  hidden.  There  was  her  problem  still, 
a  problem  that  might  at  any  instant  become  delicately 
acute.  She  considered  it,  lying  comfortably  back  in 
the  chair,  luxuriating  in  the  richly  blended  scent  of 
the  crowded  blossoms,  while  her  nearly  closed  eyes 
studied  the  restless  boy. 

Abruptly  he  turned.  What  now?  Was  he  about 
to  become  tempestuous  all  on  his  own?  It  would  be 
anything  but  out  of  character.  Her  slight  muscles 
tightened,  but  her  face  betrayed  no  emotion,  would 
have  betrayed  none  in  a  more  searching  light  than  thisi 
soft  flood  from  the  moon.  He  was  sentimental  over 
the  Manchu  princess,  now,  of  course.  She  hadn'ti 


250  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

missed  that.  But  in  the  case  of  an  ungoverned  boy, 
she  well  knew,  the  emotion  itself  could  be  vastly  more 
important  than  its  immediate  object  But  now  she  was 
to  meet  with  a  small  surprise. 

"Look  here!"  he  began,  crude,  naive,  as  always, 
"there's  something — perhaps — I  ought  to  tell  you.  I 
tried  to  carry  on  with  you.  You've  got  a  right  to  think 
anything  about  me — " 

At  least  he  was  keeping  his  voice  down.  She  lay 
still;  let  him  talk. 

" — but  I've  changed.  Smile  at  that,  if  you  want 
to!" 

She  did  smile  faintly,  but  only  at  his  clear,  clean 
ignorance  of  the  insult  that  underlay  his  words. 

" — I  was  on  the  loose.  It's  different  now.  I'm 
going  to  try  to  do  something  with  my  life.  Whatever 
happens — I  mean  however  my  luck  may  seem  to 
turn—" 

He  could  hardly  go  on  with  this.  The  next  few 
words  were  swallowed  down.  It  was  plain  enough  that 
he  couldn't  think  clearly.  And  he  couldn't  possibly 
know  that  he  was  giving  her  an  opening  through 
which,  within  a  very  few  moments,  she  was  to  see  the 
outline  of  the  policy  she  must  pursue  during  these  diffi- 
cult days  to  come  on  the  junk. 

She  lifted  her  head;  leaned  on  an  elbow.  "Do 
you  know,"  she  said,  in  a  voice  that  seemed,  now,  to 
have  a  note  of  friendliness,  "I'm  sorry  for  you." 

"Sorry  forme!" 

"Don't  think  I  can't  see  how  it  is.  And  you  mustn't 


THE  LANDSCAPE  SCROLL  251 

misunderstand  me.  I'm  older  than  you.  I'm  pretty 
experienced.  My  life  has  been  hard.  There  couldn't 
be  anything  serious  between  you  and  me.  You've 
wakened  up  to  that." 

The  new  note  in  her  voice  puzzled  him,  but  caught 
his  interest.  He  stood  looking  straight  down  at  her. 

"I  know  you're  in  love,"  she  went  on. 

"But—" 

"Don't  be  silly.  It's  plain  enough.  She's  very 
attractive.  Nobody  could  blame  you." 

"She's  wonderful!" 

"It's  nice  to  see  you  feeling  that  way.  It — it's  no 
good  our  talking  about  it,  you  and  me.  All  I've  got 
to  say  is — please  don't  think  I'd  bother  you.  I  may 
have  led  a  rough  life  at  times — a  girl  alone,  who  has 
to  live  by  her  wits — but — oh,  well,  never  mind  that! 
Every  man  has  had  his  foolish  moments.  I  under- 
stand you  better  than  you  will  ever  know — and — well, 
here's  good  luck !"  And  she  offered  her  hand. 

He  took  it,  breathless,  eager.  He  seemed,  then,  on 
the  point  of  pouring  out  his  story  to  this  new  surprising 
friend.  But  a  slight  sound  caught  his  attention.  He 
looked  up,  and  slowly  let  fall  the  hand  that  was  gripped 
in  his;  for  at  the  break  of  the  deck,  just  above  them, 
hesitating,  very  slim  and  wanz  stood  Miss  Hui  Fei. 


The  situation  was,  of  course,  in  no  way  so  dramatic 
as  it  seemed  to  the  boy.    He,  indeed,  drew  back,  over- 


252  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

come ;  the  habit  of  guilty  thought  was  not  to  be  thrown 
off  in  a  moment.  Miss  Carmichael,  sensing  that  he 
would  begin  erecting  the  incident  into  a  situation  the 
moment  he  could  clumsily  speak,  took  the  matter  in 
hand;  rising,  and  quietly  addressing  herself  to  the 
Manchu  girl.  Breeding,  of  course,  was  not  hers, 
could  not  be ;  but  her  calm  manner  and  her  instinct  for 
reticence  could  seem,  as  now,  not  unlike  the  finer 
quality. 

"Do  have  this  chair,"  she  said.  "I  was  going 
down." 

Miss  Hui  Fei  smiled  faintly.  "I  coul'n'  sleep,"  she 
murmured. 

"There's  one  little  article  I  suppose  none  of  us 
thought  to  bring — "  thus  Miss  Carmichael,  balancing 
in  her  light  way  on  the  balls  of  her  feet — "needle  and 
thread."  She  even  indulged  in  a  little  passing  laugh. 

"I  think  my  maid—  "  began  Miss  Hui  Fei. 

"Oh,  no!     I  wouldn't  bother  you!" 

"Yes!     Please— I  don'  min'." 

She  turned;  and  the  boy  started  impulsively 
toward  her.  Miss  Carmichael  moved  away,  over  the 
deck,  but  heard  him  saying,  in  a  broken  voice : 

"You'll  come  back?  I've  got  to  tell  you  some- 
thing!" 

To  which  Miss  Hui  Fei  replied,  in  a  voice  that  was 
meant  to  be  at  once  pleasant  and  impersonal :  "Why- 
yes.  I  think  I'll  come  back.  It's  so  close  down  there." 

The  two  young  women  went  below.  Quietly  Miss 
Carmichael  waited  in  the  passage. 


THE  LANDSCAPE  SCROLL  253 

The  needle  and  thread  were  shortly  forthcoming. 
The  white  girl  smiled ;  seeming  really  friendly  there  in 
the  dim  ray  of  light  that  slanted  in  through  a  window. 

"It's  good  of  you,"  she  said. 

"Oh,  no — it's  nothing." 

"We're  in  for  a  rather  uncomfortable  trip  of  it. 
I  hope  you'll  let  me  do  anything  I  can  to  help  you. 
I'm  more  used  to  knocking  about,  of  course." 

"We'll  all  make  the  best  of  it,"  said  the  Manchu 
girl,  and  turned,  with  an  effort  at  a  smile,  toward  the 
stairs. 

Miss  Carmichael  entered  her  own  room.  The  lan- 
tern still  burned,  but  the  candle-end  was  low.  She  saw 
now  an  iron  lamp,  an  open  dish  full  of  oil  with  a 
floating  wick.  This  she  lighted  with  the  candle. 
Next,  moving  about  almost  without  a  sound,  she  fas- 
tened the  swaying  door-curtain  with  pins.  Then  she 
slipped  out  of  her  blouse  and  skirt;  untied  the  pearl 
cape ;  and  seated  on  the  bed  of  matting,  with  her  back 
to  the  door,  began  patiently  sewing  the  pearls  into  her 
undergarments.  It  was  to  be  a  long  task.  Before 
dawn  the  lamp  burned  out,  and  fearful  of  being  caught 
asleep  with  the  amazing  treasure  about  her  she  stood 
at  the  window  and  let  the  wind  blow  into  her  face  until 
the  faintly  spreading  light  of  dawn  made  the  work 
again  possible.  The  drowsiness  that  nearly  overcame 
her  now  she  fought  off  with  an  iron  will.  Nothing 
mattered — nothing  but  success.  Her  thin  deft  fingers 
worked  in  a  tireless  rhythm.  Only  once,  very  briefly, 
did  she  yield  to  the  impulse  to  weigh  the  exquisite  lus- 


254  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

trous  globes  in  her  hands;  to  hold  them  close  to  the 
light.  Her  tireless  reason  told  her  that  this  wouldn't 
do.  It  brought  an  excited  throbbing  to  her  weary 
head ....  She  settled  again  to  her  task ;  time  enough 
to  gloat  later.  By  way  of  a  healthy  mental  occupa- 
tion she  counted  the  pearls  as  she  threaded  them — 
up  to  a  thousand — on  up  to  two  thousand — then 
(the  sun  was  redly  up  now;  and  folk  were  stirring 
about  the  deck)  three  thousand.  In  all,  a  few  more 
than  thirty-seven  hundred  pearls  she  threaded  about 
her  person ;  and  then  slipped  back  into  blouse  and  skirt 
before  permitting  herself  a  few  hours  of  sleep.  The 
diamond-studded  clasps  she  wrapped  in  a  bit  of  cloth 
and  stuffed  into  her  hand-bag. 

The  Chinese  maid  woke  her  then,  bringing  food 
that  had  been  cooked,  she  knew,  in  the  brick  stove  up 
forward,  where  the  crew  slept.  She  could  bring  her- 
self to  eat  but  a  few  mouthfuls. ...  .This  didn't  matter, 
either.  No  hardship  was  of  consequence  in  such  a 
battle  as  hers ;  she  would  have  submitted  coolly  to  tor- 
ture rather  than  surrender  her  prize.  But  it  suggested 
fresh  tactics.  She  had  a  knack  at  cooking.  Quietly, 
later  in  the  day — she  knew  better  than  to  try  effusive 
friendliness ;  to  play  herself  to  the  last  would  be  best — 
she  spoke  to  Mr.  Doane  of  that  small  gift.  A  kitchen 
was  improvised  in  the  laopan's  cramped  quarters,  aft ; 
and  Miss  Carmichael,  quite  intent  about  her  business, 
coolly  cheerful  about  it,  indeed,  began  to  prove  her 
capacity.  And  she  knew,  then,  that  she  was  winning. 
They  would  soon  be  respecting  her,  even  liking  her. 


THE  LANDSCAPE  SCROLL  255 

Even  so  she  would  keep  her  distance ;  then  they  would 
have  to  keep  theirs.     That  was  all  she  needed. 


To  Rocky,  the  most  elusive  memory  of  all  this 
eventful  night  was  the  conversation  with  Miss  Hui  Fei. 
For  she  returned  in  a  moment — so  he  remembered  it 
— and  sank  wearily  into  the  steamer  chair.  The  pic- 
ture of  that  scene  was  to  vary  bafflingly  in  his  mind. 
At  times  he  saw  himself,  torn  with  an  emotion  now  so 
great  that  it  seemed  the  end  of  life,  standing  over  her, 
saying,  passionately: 

"I  know  how  it  looked — you're  finding  us  here  like 
that!  And  you'd  have  reason.  I  did  flirt  with  her. 
I'm  ashamed  now.  I  hadn't  seen  you — felt  you — like 
this.  But  that's  all  over.  I  was  telling  her — Please ! 
You've  got  to  know ! — that  I  love  you.  Or  telling  her 
enough.  She  understood.  And  she  was  awfully 
decent.  She  took  my  hand,  wished  me  luck." 

There  must  have  been  a  brief  time  then  when  the 
poor  girl  was  endeavoring  pleasantly  to  turn  aside  this 
torrent  of  heavily  freighted  words.  Certainly  he  was 
talking  feverishly  on.  He  could  remember  pulling 
down  a  coil  of  rope  from  the  steersman's  deck  and 
sitting  moodily  beside  her ;  and  there  was  a  sensation  in 
their  minds,  his  and  hers,  of  being  at  cross-purposes. 
There  was  something  about  her,  back  of  the  weary 
smile — a  smile  that  was  long  to  haunt  him,  dim  in  the 
moonlight,  exquisite  in  its  sensitive  beauty — that 


256  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

eluded  his  pressing  desire  until  it  seemed  near  to  driv- 
ing him  mad.  Kipling's  East  is  East,  and  West  is 
West,  slipped  in  among  his  thoughts ;  kept  coming  and 
coming  until  it  became  a  nerve-wracking  singsong  in 
his  brain. 

There  was  one  period,  fortunately  very  short,  when 
he  seemed  to  be  almost  forcing  a  quarrel.  Why,  he 
couldn't  afterward  imagine.  That  part  of  it  was 
dreadful  in  the  retrospect.  He  had  reached  the  point, 
apparently,  when  he  couldn't  longer  endure  the  failure 
to  reach  her.  There  was  simply  no  response.  It  was 
almost  as  if  he  were  frightening  her  away.  Perhaps 
it  was  just  that. 

But  the  most  vivid  memory  was  of  the  unaccount- 
able force  that  suddenly  rose  in  him,  seizing  on  his 
tongue,  his  brain,  his  very  nerves.  The  power  of  the 
Kanes  was  abruptly  his,  and  it  brought  its  own  skill 
with  it.  It  was,  distinctly,  a  possession.  It  simply 
came,  at  this  very  top  of  his  emotional  pitch.  There 
must  have  been  preliminaries.  He  must  have  said 
things  that  she  must  have  answered.  But  these  lesser 
moments  dropped  out.  Even  a  day  later,  he  could  see, 
could  almost  feel,  himself  on  one  knee  beside  the 
steamer  chair,  saying  those  amazing  things,  without  a 
shred  of  memory  as  to  how  he  got  there.  Never  had 
he  so  spoken,  to  girl  or  woman;  for  in  the  escapades 
of  the  younger  Rocky  there  had  always  been  a  reti- 
cence if  seldom  a  restraint.  It  was  precocity;  the  blood 
that  was  in  him. 

"You  beautiful,  wonderful  girl !"  he  was  breathing, 


THE  LANDSCAPE  SCROLL  257 

close  to  her  ear.  (He  was  never  to  forget  this.)'  "How 
can  you  hide  your  feelings  from  me?  Can't  you  see 
it's  just  driving  me  mad?....  You're  adorable! 
You're  exquisite !  You  thrill  me  so — just  your  voice ; 
the  way  you  walk — your  hands — your  hair ! .  .  . . 
Can't  you  understand,  dear,  it  isn't  what  they  call 
'love.' '  (This  with  a  divine  contempt.)  "It's  the  cry 
of  my  whole  being.  I  want  to  give  you  my  life.  I 
want  to  know  your  life — study  it — come  to  understand 
the  wonderful  people  that  has  made  you  possible !  I'm 
going  to  study  it — history,  art,  everything ! . .  . .  I 
worship  you !  I  dream  so  of  you — all  the  time — day- 
times! I  just  half-close  my  eyes  and  then,  right  away, 
I  can  see  you,  walking.  And  I  see  you  as  you  were  at 
the  dance  on  the  boat."  He  choked  a  little;  then 
rushed  on.  "And  in  those  dreams  I  always  take  you 
in  my  arms — No,  let  me  say  it!  The  angels  are  sing- 
ing it,  the  wonderful  truth! — I  take  you  in  my  arms 
and  kiss  your  hair  and  your  eyes.  You  always  close 
your  eyes — oh,  so  slowly — and  I  press  my  lips  on  the 
lids.  And  your  arms  are  around  my  neck.  I  can  feel 
your  hands.  But  I  never  kiss  your  lips — not  in  those 
dreams.  Because  that  will  mean  that  you  have  given 
me  your  soul,  and  I  always  know  I  must  wait  for 

that 

"Please !  You  must  listen !  Can't  you  see  I'm  just 
tearing  my  heart  out  and  putting  it  in  your  hands — 
under  your  feet?  There  isn't  any  other  life  for  me.  I 
can't  live  without  you.  I  could  give  up  my  friends,  my 
home,  my  country,  and  be  happy  just  serving  you." 


258  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

He  had  captured  her  hand ;  had  it  tight  in  his  two 
hands  and  was  kissing  it  tenderly.  The  thrill  was 
unbelievable  now.  It  was  ecstasy.  He  could  hear 
himself  murmuring  over  and  over,  "You're  so 
exquisite !  So  thrilling !  I  love  the  way  your  hair  lies 
over  your  forehead.  I  love  your  eyes,  especially  when 
you  smile" ....  On  and  on. 

The  tired  sad  girl  in  the  steamer  chair  could  not 
fail  to  respond  in  some  measure,  in  every  sensitive 
nerve,  to  so  ardent  a  wooing.  Even  when  she  rose,  and 
struggled  a  little  to  withdraw  her  hand,  she  couldn't 
be  angry.  He  was  surprising;  in  his  very  boyishness, 
compelling. 

Then,  a  little  later,  he  was  sitting  moodily  on  the 
extension  front  of  the  chair,  face  in  hands,  plunged 
into  a  wordless  abyss ;  she  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  steers- 
man's deck,  leaning  against  the  rail,  her  face  close  to 
a  lotus  plant,  with  one  flower  that  looked  a  ghostly 
blue  in  the  fading  moonlight,  and  just  later,  shaded 
through  pink  to  deep  red  with  the  first  quick-spreading 
color  of  the  dawn.  His  emotional  outburst  had  passed, 
for  the  moment,  like  a  gust.  He  seemed  to  himself, 
already,  to  have  failed.  His  thoughts  were  turned, 
behind  the  gray  half-covered  face,  on  death.  For  so 
swung  the  pendulum.  He  couldn't,  in  these  depths, 
draw  significance  from  the  remarkable  fact  that  she 
had  risen  only  to  drop  down  again  and  carry  forward 
the  talk  that  he  let  fall,  and  that  he  had,  for  the  time 
at  least,  swept  away  those  mental  obstacles.  Certainly 
Miss  Hui  Fei  was  not  elusive  now. 


THE  LANDSCAPE  SCROLL  259 


The  things  she  was  saying,  in  a  deliberate,  matter- 
of-fact  way,  bewildered  him. 

"I  don'  want  you  to  make  love  to  me  like  tha'." 

"But  how  can  I  help  it?  You're  so  wonderful. 
You  thrill  me  so.  I  tell  you  it's  my  whole  life.  I  can 
never  live  on  without  you — not  any  more.  It's  got 
to  be  with  you,  or — or  nothing." 

It  was  strange.  This  impulsive  affection  had 
grown  very,  very  rapidly  within  him ;  yet,  even  a  day 
earlier  he  couldn't  have  pictured  this  scene.  Not  a 
phrase  of  these  burning  sentences  he  was  so  fervently 
uttering  had  been  consciously  framed  in  his  mind.  A 
part  of  the  thrill  of  the  situation  lay  in  the  very  fact 
that  he  was  so  wildly  committing  himself.  Now  that 
it  was  being  said,  he  felt  no  desire  to  take  a  word 
back.  He  meant  it  all ;  and  more — more. 

But  she — still,  even  in  the  telltale  morning  light, 
quaint,  charming,  adorable — was  growing  so  practical 
about  it. 

"You're  a  ver'  romantic  boy." 

"I'm  not!  This  is  real!  Can't  you  understand 
that  it's  love — forever?" 

"Please ! . . . .  I  don'  want  you  to  think  T  don' 
un'erstan'.  It's  ver'  sweet  an'  generous  of  you — " 

"I'm  not  generous !    I  want  you !" 

"I  do  apprecia'  all  it  woul'  mean.  You  offer  me 
so  much — " 

"You  dear  girl,  I  offer  you  everything — everything 


2<5o  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

I  have  or  am!  I  don't  want  to  live  at  all  unless  it's 
with  you  always  at  my  side." 

"But  I  don't  think —  Please!  I  woul'n'  hurt  you 
for  anything.  You've  helped  so— helped  saving  my 
father's  life  an'  mine.  It's  won'erful — but  I  don' 
think  life  is  like  that.  People  mus'  have  so  much  in 
common  to  marry  in  the  Western  way.  They  mus' 
love  each  other,  yes.  But  in  their  min's  an'  feelings 
they  mus'  share  so  much — their  background . ..." 

He  was  out  of  the  chair  now;  was  beside  her  on 
the  deck. 

"Listen !"  he  was  huskily  saying.  "We'll  get  mar- 
ried right  away  in  Shanghai.  We've  got  to !  I  won't 
let  you  say  no!  And  then  we  won't  go  back.  We'll 
stay  out  here.  There'll  be  money  enough,  in  spite  of 
the  pater.  We'll  study  this  East  together.  I'm  going 
to  devote  all  the  rest  of  my  life  to  it.  We'll  build  our 
common  interest.  I  shall  never  want  anything  else!" 

"How  do  you  know  that?" 

"Can  you  doubt  me?"  He  had  both  her  hands 
now.  He  seemed  so  young,  so  eager.  He  would  fight 
for  what  he  greatly  desired,  as  his  father  had  fought 
before  him.  However  crudely,  boyishly,  he  would 
fight. 

"No" — her  own  voice  was,  surprisingly,  a  little 
unsteady — "of  course  I  don'  doubt  you.  But  how  can 
you  know  what  you're  going  to  wan' — years  from  now. 
I  don'  un'erstan'  that.  It  does  seem  pretty  romantic 
to  me.  I  don't  know  for  myself.  I  coul'n'  tell." 


THE  LANDSCAPE  SCROLL  261 

This,  or  perhaps  it  was  her  failure  to  rise  to  his 
ecstasy,  plunged  him  again  into  the  depths. 

"It's  you  or  nothing  now,"  he  repeated.  "You  or 
nothing." 

"Wha'  do  you  mean  by  that?" 

"I've  got  to  have  you.  If  I  can't,  I'll — oh,  I 
guess  I'll  just  drop  quietly  overboard.  What's  the 
use?" 

"Do  you  think  it's  fair  to  talk  li'  that?" 

"Perhaps  not,  but — I  guess  I'm  beside  myself." 

"Listen!"  said  she  now;  with  a  friendly,  even 
sympathetic  pressure  of  his  trembling  hands,  "I'll  tell 
you  what  I  think.  I  think  the  thing  for  you  to  do  is 
to  go  back  to  college." 

This  stung  him.  "How  can  you  talk  like  that," 
he  cried,  "when — " 

"I  don'  wan'  to  hurt  you.  But  please  try  to  think 
this  as  I  wan'  you  to." 

"Haven't  you  any  feeling  for  me  ?" 

"Of  course,  an'  I'm  ver'  grateful." 

"For  God's  sake,  don't  talk  like  that." 

There  was  a  pause.  He  withdrew  his  hands; 
plunged  his  feverish  face  into  them. 

She  rose,  wearily.  Said :  "I'm  going  to  try  to  sleep." 

"And  you  could  go  ?    Leaving  it  like  this  ?" 

"Please!    I  can't  help—" 

"Oh,  I  understand — "  he  was  on  his  feet  before 
her ;  caught  her  arms  in  his  hands  that  now  were  firm 
and  young — "I  haven't  moved  you  yet,  that's  all.  But 
I  will.  We  Kanes  aren't  quitters.  We  don't  give  up. 


262  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

And  I'm  not  going  to  give  you  up.  I'm  going  to  win 
you.  Can't  you  see  that  I've  got  to?  That  I  can't 
live ....  Listen !  You're  the  loveliest,  daintiest  little 
girl  in  the  world.  You're  exquisite.  Your  voice  is 
music  to  me.  I've  got  to  live  my  life  to  that  music. 
It'll  be  beautiful!  Can't  you  see  that?  I  don't  care 
how  much  time  it  takes.  I'll  settle  down  to  it.  But 
I'll  win  you.  And  we'll  be  married  at  Shanghai?" 

He  was  very  nearly  irresistible  now.  The  power 
in  him  was  real.  She  broke  away;  then,  a  surprise  to 
herself,  lingered.  Strangely  to  her,  this  ardent,  still 
somewhat  impossible  boy,  with  his  vital,  Western 
force,  had  actually  created  an  atmosphere  of  romance 
in  which  she  was,  for  the  moment,  and  in  a  degree, 
enveloped.  She  knew,  clearly  enough,  that  she  must 
exert  herself  to  escape  from  it;  but  lingered. 

He  caught  her  hands  again ;  covered  them  with 
kisses;  held  them  firmly  while  his  eyes,  suddenly 
radiant,  sought  hers  and,  during  a  moving  instant, 
held  them.  She  went  below  then.  And  Rocky  dropped 
into  the  steamer  chair  and  smiled  exultantly  as  he 
drifted  into  slumber. 

When  they  met  again,  away  from  the  others,  after 
an  excellent  luncheon  of  fowl  and  vegetables  prepared 
by  the  surprising  Miss  Carmichael,  his  mood  was 
wholly  changed.  He  had  charm ;  consciously  or  uncon- 
sciously, he  made  it  felt. 

"I  wasn't  fair  to  you,"  he  began. 

"If  you  don'  min',"  said  she,  "we  jus'  won'  talk 
abou'  th'at." 


THE  LANDSCAPE  SCROLL  263 

"Can't  help  it."  He  smiled  a  little.  "There's  no 
use  pretending  I  can  think  about  another  thing.  I'm 
madly  in  love  with  you — hopelessly  gone.  It'll  prob- 
ably simplify  things  if  you'll  just  accept  that  as  a  fact. 
But  last  night — this  morning — whenever  it  was! — 
after  all  we'd  been  through — you  know,  it  wasn't  so 
unnatural  that  I  got  all  fired  up  that  way." 

As  this  half-smiling,  half-serious  youth  was 
plainly  going  to  be  even  more  difficult  to  manage  than 
the  ardent  boy  of  the  glowing  dawn,  she  was  silent. 

"Here's  the  thing,"  he  went  on.  "I  was  too  worn 
out  myself  to  be  considerate  of  you.  I  meant  every 
word,  of  course.  You'll  never  know  how  won- 
derful you  seem  to  me."  This  rather  wistfully.  They 
were  leaning  on  the  rail,  gazing  at  the  rocky  hills  along 
the  southern  bank.  "It's  all  wrong  for  me  to  be  so 
impatient.  I  know  I've  got  to  make  good.  I've  got 
to  earn  you.  That  won't  come  all  at  once.  But  I  am 
going  to  try  not  to  get  stirred  up  like  that  again.  God 
knows  you've  got  enough  to  bother  you." 

"I'm  ver'  uncertain  abou'  my  father,"  said  she. 

"How  do  you  mean?" 

"Oh — he  stays  in  his  room.  He  doesn'  come  out 
with  us.  An'  he's  always  working." 

"Well — does  that  mean  anything?  Wouldn't  he 
naturally  be  busy?" 

"I  don'  think  so.    No'  like  this." 

"But  I  don't  understand  what — " 

"It  isn'  easy  to  say.  When  a  man  like  father — 
what  you  call  a  mandarin — feels  that  he  mus'  " — her 


264  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

voice  wavered — "that  he  mus'  go,  there  is  a  grea'  deal 
that  he  must  wri'  to  his  frien's  an'  to  the  governmen'. 
He  doesn'  wan'  to  be  disturb'.  I  can'  tell  wha'  he's 
doing.  It  worries  me." 


8 


Doane,  during  the  sunny  dreamy  afternoon,  heard 
them,  now  and  again.  They  were  quite  monopolizing 
the  pleasant  after  gallery.  And  they  were  drifting  on 
into  their  love  story.  He  could  not  restrain  himself 
from  watching  and  listening.  Despite  the  fact  that  his 
own  dream  was  over,  Doane  felt  about  it,  in  his  heart, 
like  a  boy.  The  sight  of  her  quickened  his  pulse. 
Thoughts  of  her — mental  pictures — came  irresistibly. 
And  these,  at  times,  puzzled  his  heart  if  never  his  rea- 
son; the  moment  on  the  top  deck  of  the  steamer, 
when  she  climbed  the  after  ladder  and  first  confided 
her  tragic  difficulty ;  the  dance  she  "sat  out"  with  him. 
...  .He  called  himself,  often  enough,  a  fool.  But  his 
spirit  refused  to  accept  the  words  that  formed  in  his 
mind.  He  was  simply  at  war  with  himself ....  The 
sort  of  thing  happened  often  enough  in  life,  of  course. 
Every  man  lived  through  such  periods.  Men  of  mid- 
dle age  in  particular ....  Thus  he  fell  back,  over  and 
again,  on  reason.  It  was  all  he  could  do.  Plainly  the 
experience  would  take  a  lot  of  living  through. 

To  hope  that  her  quick  youth  could  altogether 
resist  Rocky's  ardent  youth  was  asking  too  much,  of 
course.  The  young  people  were  almost  certain  to  find 


THE  LANDSCAPE  SCROLE  265 

themselves  helpless — their  emotions  stirred  by  what 
they  had  been  living  through;  thrown  together  here, 
romantically,  on  the  junk.  Whatever  small  diffi- 
culties they  might  encounter  in  exploring  each 
other's  nascent  feelings  would  be  softened  by  the 
very  air  they  were  breathing.  The  young  are  often, 
usually,  helpless  when  nature  so  works  upon  them .... 
But  Doane  wasn't  bitter.  At  times  he  nearly  con- 
vinced himself  that  he  felt  only  concern  lest  they  rush 
along  too  fast ;  surrender  their  hearts,  only  to  find  too 
late  that  the  necessary  affinity  was  not  growing  into 
flower.  The  boy  must  have  some  proving,  of  course. 
That  lovely  girl  mustn't  be  sacrificed. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  they  were  singing,  softly, 
even  humorously.  Doane  caught  snatches  of  Man- 
dalay,  and  the  college  songs.  That  would  seem  to  them 
a  fine  bond,  of  course — the  mere  casual  fact  that  both 
knew  the  songs.  For  youth  is  quite  as  simple  as  that. 
....  So  they  were  rushing  on  with  it,  while  an  older 
man  pondered.  Rocky  hung  unashamed  on  her  every 
word,  every  movement;  waited  forlornly  about  when- 
ever she  went  below;  starting  at  sounds,  sinking  into 
moods,  and  shining  with  radiance  when  she  reap- 
peared. He  even  had  gentle  moments. . .  .What  girl 
could  be  insensible  to  all  that  ?  He  himself  was  avoid- 
ing them,  of  course.  There  was  no  helping  that;  cer- 
tainly in  this  stage  of  the  romance. 

His  excellency  appeared  on  deck  during  the  second 
afternoon ;  greeted  Doane  in  friendly  fashion — looking 
oddly  simple  in  his  servant  costume;  blue  gown,  plain 


266  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

cloth  slippers,  skull-cap  with  a  knot  of  vermilion  silk. 
They  walked  the  deck  together;  later,  they  sat  on  a 
coil  of  rope.  In  manner  he  was  very  nearly  his  old 
self;  smiling  a  thought  less,  perhaps,  but  as  humanly 
direct  in  his  talk  as  a  Chinese. 

"We  shall  soon  be  parting,  Griggsby  Doane,"  he 
remarked,  "and  I  shall  think  much  of  you.  Do  you 
know  yet  where  you  shall  go  and  what  you  shall  do?" 

"No,"  Doane  replied.  "All  I  can  do  now  is  the 
next  thing,  whatever  that  may  prove  to  be." 

"You  will  help  China?" 

"I  shall  hope  for  an  opportunity." 

"You  are,  first  and  last,  a  Westerner." 

"I  suppose  that  is  true." 

"I  did  think  you  a  philosopher,  Griggsby  Doane. 
So  you  seemed  to  me.  Like  our  humble  great,  almost 
like  Chuang  Tzii  himself.  But  in  the  moment  of  crisis 
your  nature  found  expression  wholly  in  action.  At 
such  times  we  of  the  East  are  likely  to  be  negative. 
We  are  a  static  people.  But  you,  like  your  own,  are 
dynamic." 

This  shrewd  bit  of  observation  struck  Doane 
sharply.  Come  to  think,  it  was  true. 

"At  the  critical  moment  you  wasted  not  one  thought 
in  reflection.  You  weighed  none  of  the  difficulties; 
you  ignored  consequences.  You  took  command.  You 
acted.  As  a  result — here  we  are ....  I  suppose  you 
were  right.  At  any  rate,  I  yielded  to  your  active 
judgment.  It  has  saved  my  daughter." 


THE  LANDSCAPE  SCROLL  267 

"And  you,  as  well,  Your  Excellency,  if  I  may  say 
so." 

"Very  well — myself  too. ...  I  shall  always  think 
of  you  now  as  I  have  twice  seen  you — once  in  that 
curious  boxing  match  on  the  steamer;  and  again  as 
you  took  command  of  me  and  my  own  house.  I  regret 
that  in  my  position  as  a  Manchu,  however  progressive, 
I  can  not  be  of  any  considerable  service  to  you  with 
the  republicans.  It  is  in  their  camp  that  your  advice 
will  help.  Only  there.  Shall  you  go  to  them?" 

Doane  found  it  impossible  to  mention  the  invita- 
tion of  Sun-Shi-pi.  That  would  be  a  sacred  confi- 
dence. So  he  replied  in  merely  general  terms : 

"I  should  like  to  sit  in  their  councils.  They  seem 
to  represent,  at  this  time,  China's  only  material  hope. 
Though  I  am  not  strongly  an  optimist  regarding  the 
revolution.  China  is  so  vast,  so  sunken  in  tradition, 
that  the  real  revolution  must  be  distressingly  slow. 
Still,  I  have  some  familiarity  with  the  constitutional 
history  of  my  own  country,  and,  I  think,  some 
acquaintance  with  yours.  And  I  love  China.  Yes,  I 
should  like  to  help." 

"You  are  a  great  man,  Griggsby  Doane.  You  have 
known  sorrow  and  poverty.  To  the  merely  successful 
American  I  do  not  look  for  much  real  guidance.  But 
China  needs  you.  I  hope  she  will  find  you  out  in 
time." 

They  talked  on,  of  many  things.  His  excellency 
was  gently,  at  times  even  whimsically,  reflective.  At 
length  he  touched,  lightly  at  first,  on  the  subject  of 


268  'IN  RED  AND  GOLI) 

Rocky  Kane.     A  little  later,  more  openly,  he  asked 
what  the  boy's  standing  would  be  in  New  York. 

Doane  thought  this  over  very  carefully.  It  was 
curious  how  that  confusing  element  of  mere  feeling 
reappeared  promptly  in  his  mind.  But  he  explained, 
finally,  that  while  the  boy  was  young,  and  had  been 
passing  through  a  phase  of  rather  adventurous  wild- 
ness,  still  his  father  was  a  man  of  enormous  prestige 
in  society  as  in  the  financial  world.  The  boy  had  nice 
qualities.  Given  the  right  influences  he  might,  with 
the  wealth  that  would  one  day  be  his,  become  like  his 
father,  a  powerful  factor  in  American  life. 

"I  find  myself  somewhat  puzzled,"  remarked  his 
excellency  then.  "He  seems  devoted  to  my  daughter. 
I  can  not  easily  read  her  mind.  And  I  would  not 
attempt  to  direct  her  life  as  would  be  necessary  had 
she  been  merely  a  Manchu  girl  reared  in  a  Manchu 
environment.  Is  she,  do  you  think,  and  as  your  people 
understand  the  term,  in  love  with  him?  I  find  their 
present  relationship  somewhat  alarming." 

"It  would  be  difficult  to  say,  Your  Excellency— 
thus  Doane,  simply  and  gravely.    "The  young  man  is, 
of  course,  in  love  with  her." 

"Ah,"  breathed  his  excellency.  "You  are  sure  of 
that?" 

"Yes.  She  is  undoubtedly  accustomed  to  play 
about  pleasantly  with  young  men  as  do  the  young 
women  of  America."  Sudden,  poignant  memories 
came  of  his  own  lovely  daughter,  as  she  had  been ;  and 
of  the  puzzling  romance  that  had  seemed  for  a  time 


THE  LANDSCAPE  SCROLL  269 

to  injure  her  young  life — a  romance  in  which  he,  her 
father,  had  played  a  strange  part.  But  that  was,  after 
all,  but  an  echo  from  another  life;  a  closed  book. 

"Your  daughter,  I  am  sure,"  Doane  continued, 
"can  be  trusted  to  form  her  own  attachments.  She  is 
a  noble  as  well  as  a  beautiful  girl." 

"Indeed — you  find  her  so,  Griggsby  Doane  ?  That 
is  pleasant  to  my  ears.  For  into  the  directing  of  her 
life  have  gone  my  dreams  of  the  new  China  and  the 
new  world.  I  would  not  have  her  choose  wrongly 
now.  But  I  do  not  understand  her.  It  is  difficult  for 
me  to  talk  freely  with  her." 

"I  am  sure,"  said  Doane  slowly,  "that  if  you  could 
bring  yourself  to  do  so" — as  once  or  twice  before,  in 
moments  of  deep  feeling,  he  forgot  to  use  the  indirect 
Oriental  form  of  address — "it  would  make  her  very 
happy." 

"You  think  that,  Griggsby  Doane?"  His  excel- 
lency considered  this.  Then  added :  "I  will  make  the 
effort." 

"If  I  may  suggest — talk  with  her  not  as  father 
with  daughter,  but  on  an  equality,  as  friend  with 
friend." 

His  excellency  slowly  rose;  and  Doane,  also  ris- 
ing, felt  for  the  first  time  that  the  fine  old  statesman 
fully  looked  his  age.  He  was,  standing  there,  smiling 
a  thought  wistfully,  an  old  man,  little  short  of  a  broken 
man.  And  then  his  dry  thin  hand  found  Doane's  huge 
one  and  gripped  it  in  the  Western  manner.  This  was 


270  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

a  surprise,  evidently  as  moving  to  Kang  as  to  Doane 
himself;  for  they  stood  thus  a  moment  in  silence. 

"My  dearest  hope,  of  late,"  said  the  great  Manchu 
— the  smooth  orust  of  etiquette  giving  way,  for  once, 
before  the  pressure  of  emotion — "has  been  that  my 
daughter's  heart  might  be  entrusted  to  you,  Griggsby 
Doane." 

Again  a  silence.    Then  Doane: 

"That  was  my  hope,  as  well." 

"Then—" 

"No.  It  is  plainly  impossible.  All  life  is  before 
her.  The  thought  has  not  come  to  her.  It  never  will. 
I  see  now  that  she  could  not  be  happy  with  me.  And  I 
think  she  ought  to  be  happy.  I  must  ask  you  not  to 
speak  of  this  again.  Let  youth  call  unto  youth.  And 
let  me  be  her  friend." 


His  excellency  went  below  after  this.  Miss  Hui 
Fei  was  also  below,  sleeping.  Rocky  Kane  had  been 
playing  with  the  little  princess,  out  on  the  gallery ; 
but  now,  evidently  watching  his  chance,  he  came  for- 
ward to  the  informal  seat  the  mandarin  had  vacated. 

It  was  to  be  difficult — always  difficult.  The  boy, 
plainly,  couldn't  live  through  these  tense  days  without 
a  confidant.  Doane  steeled  himself  to  bear  it,  and  to 
respond  as  a  friend.  There  was  no  way  out ;  would  be 
none  short  of  Shanghai ;  just  an  exquisite  torture.  It 
was  even  to  grow,  with  each  fresh  contact,  harder  to 


THE  LANDSCAPE  SCROLL'          271 

bear.  The  boy  was  so  curiously;  unsophisticated,  so 
earnest  and  honest  an  egotist. 

" — I've  asked  her,"  he  said  now. 

Doane  could  only  wait. 

"She  hasn't  said  yes.  That  would  be  absurd,  of 
course — so  soon."  He  was  so  pitifully  putting  up  a 
brave  front.  "But  she  does  like  me.  And  it's  some- 
thing that  she  hasn't  said  no.  Isn't  it  something?" 

That  was  hardly  a  question;  it  was  nearer  asser- 
tion— what  he  had  to  think.  Doane  managed  to  incline 
his  head. 

"But  never  mind  that.  God  knows  why  I  should 
bother  you  with  it.  You've  been  so  kind — such  a 
friend.  We — are  friends,  aren't  we?" 

Doane  felt  himself  obliged  to  turn  and  meet  his 
eyes.  And  such  eyes!  Ablaze  with  nervous  light. 
And  then  he  had  to  grip  another  hand — this  one  young, 
moist,  strong.  But  he  managed  that,  too. 

"Listen!  I  do  bother  you  awfully,  but — I've  been 
thinking — here  we  are,  you  know.  God  knows  when 
I'll  find  a  man  who  could  help  me  as  you  can.  And 
we  brought  all  those  wonderful  old  paintings  aboard 
here.  I've  been  thinking — well,  since  I've  got  so  much 
to  learn  of  Chinese  culture,  why  not  begin  ?  Couldn't 
I — would  they  mind  if  I  looked  at  some  of  the  pic- 
tures? And — if  it  isn't  asking  too  much — you  could 
tell  me  why  they're  good.  Just  begin  to  give  me  some- 
thing to  go  by.  Isn't  it  as  good  a  way  to  make  the 
break  as  any?" 

It  was  a  most  acceptable  diversion.    Doane,  though 


272  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

several  boxes  of  the  paintings  were  in  his  own  rooms, 
sent  a  servant  to  ask  a  permission  that  was  cordially 
granted.  And  as  there  was  a  wind  blowing,  they 
went  below,  and  talked  there  in  low  voices  in  order  not 
to  disturb  the  sleeping  girl,  while  the  elder  man  care- 
fully opened  a  box  and  got  out  a  number  of  the  long 
scrolls  that  were  wound  on  rods  of  ivory,  handling 
them  with  reverent  fingers. 

He  chose  one  from  the  brush  of  that  Chao  Meng-fu 
who  flourished  under  the  earliest  Mongol  or  Yuan 
rulers,  a  roll  perhaps  fourteen  or  fifteen  inches  in 
width,  and  in  length,  judging  from  the  thickness,  as 
many  feet,  tied  around  with  silk  cords  and  fastened 
with  tags  of  carven  jade.  The  painting  itself,  natur- 
ally, was  on  silk,  which  in  turn  was  pasted  on  thick, 
dark-toned  paper,  made  of  bamboo  pulp,  with  borders 
of  brocade.  The  projecting  ends  of  the  ivory  rollers, 
like  the  tags,  were  carved. 

At  the  edge  of  the  scroll  were,  besides  the  seal  sig- 
nature of  the  artist,  and  the  date — in  our  chronology, 
A.  D.  1308 — many  other  signatures  in  the  conventional 
square  seal  characters  of  royal  and  other  collectors 
who  had  possessed  the  painting,  with  also,  a  few  pithy, 
appreciative  epigrams  from  eminent  critics  of  various 
periods.  On  that  one  margin  was  stamped  the  authen- 
tic history  of  the  particular  bit  of  silk,  paper  and  pig- 
ment during  its  life  of  six  full  centuries;  for  no  hand 
could  have  forged  those  seals. 

There  was  no  likelihood  that  the  boy — lacking,  as 
he  was,  in  cultural  background — would  exhibit  any 


THE  LANDSCAPE  SCROLL  273 

sensitive  responsiveness  to  the  exquisite  brush-work  of 
the  fine  old  painter  or  to  his  consciously  subjective 
attitude  toward  his  art.  But  there  is  a  way  in  which 
the  simple  Western  mind  that  is  not  preoccupied  with 
fixed  concepts  of  art  may  be  led  into  enjoyment  of 
such  a  landscape  scroll;  this  is  to  exhibit  it  as  do  the 
Chinese  themselves,  unrolling  it,  very  slowly,  a  little  at 
a  time,  deliberately  absorbing-  the  detail  and  the  finely 
suggested  atmosphere,  until  a  sensation  is  experienced 
not  unlike  that  of  making  a  journey  through  a  strange 
and  delightful  country.  Doane  employed  this  method 
— it  was  surely  what  that  old  painter  intended — and 
led  the  boy  slowly  from  a  pastoral  home,  so  small 
beneath  its  towering  overhanging  mountain  crags, 
that  lost  themselves  finally  in  soft  cloud-masses,  as  to 
appear  insignificant,  out  along  a  river  where  lines  of 
reeds  swayed  in  the  winds  and  boats  moved  patiently, 
across  a  lake  that  was  dotted  with  pavilions  and  pleas- 
ure craft — on  and  on,  through  varied  scenes  that  yet 
were  blended  with  amazing  craftsmanship  into  a  con- 
tinuous, harmonious  whole. 

The  time  crept  by  and  by.  When  Doane  finally 
explained  the  seal  characters  at  the  end  and  retied 
the  old  silk  cords  with  their  hanging  rectangles  of 
unclouded  green  jade,  the  sun  was  low  over  the  west- 
ern hills. 

Rocky 's  face  was  flushed,  his  eyes  nervously 
bright.  "I  don't  get  it  all,  of  course,"  he  said ;  "but  it 
makes  you  feel  somehow  as  if  you'd  been  reading  The 
Pilgrim's  Progress!" 


274  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

Doane  gravely  nodded. 

"Shall  we  look  at  another?"  said  Rocky. 

"No.  That  is  enough.  The  Chinese  know  better 
than  to  crowd  the  mind  with  confused  impressions  of 
many  paintings.  A  good  picture  is  an  experience  to 
be  lived  through,  not  a  trophy  to  be  glanced  at." 

"I  wonder,"  said  the  boy,  "if  that's  why  I  used  to 
hate  it  so  when  my  tutor  dragged  me  through  the 
Metropolitan  Museum  ?" 

"Doubtless." 

"And  this  picture  has  a  great  value,  I  suppose?" 

"It  is  virtually  priceless — in  East  as  well  as  West," 
replied  Doane  as  he  replaced  it  among  its  fellows  in 
the  box. 

Thus  began,  late  but  perhaps  not  too  late,  what  may 
be  regarded  as  the  education  of  young  Rockingham 
Kane. 


CHAPTER  XII 

AT  THE  HOUR  OF  THE  TIGER 

T^HEY  passed,  that  evening,  the  region  of  Peng-tze 
where  Tao  Yuan-ming,  after  a  scant  three  months 
as  district  magistrate,  surrendered  his  honors  and 
retired  to  his  humble  farm  near  Kiu  Kiang,  there  to 
write  in  peace  the  verse  and  prose  that  have  endured 
during  sixteen  crowded  centuries;  and  on,  then,  mov- 
ing slowly  through  the  precipitous  Gateway  of  Anking 
and,  later,  around  the  bend  that  bounds  that  city  on 
the  west,  south  and  east.  Those  on  deck  could  see, 
indistinctly  in  the  deepening  twilight,  the  vast  area 
of  houses  and  ruins — for  Anking  had  not  yet  recov- 
ered from  the  devastations  of  the  T'ai-ping  rebels  in 
the  eighteen-sixties — where  half  a  million  yellow  folk 
swarm  like  ants;  and  very  indistinctly  indeed,  farther 
to  the  north,  they  could  see  the  blue  mountains. 
Slowly,  quietly,  then,  Anking,  with  its  ruins  and  its 
memories  fell  away  astern. 

Half  an  hour  later  the  sweeps  were  lashed  along 
the  rail.  The  great  dark  sails,  with  their  scalloped 
edges  between  the  battens  of  bamboo,  seeming  more 
than  ever,  in  the  dusk,  like  the  wings  of  an  enormous 

275 


276  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

bat,  were  lowered ;  and  with  many  shouts  and  rhythmic 
cries  the  tracking  ropes  were  run  out  to  mooring  poles 
on  the  bank.  Forward  the  mattings  were  adjusted  for 
the  night.  The  smells  of  tobacco  and  frying  fish 
drifted  aft.  A  youth,  sipping  tea  by  the  rail,  put  down 
his  cup  and  sang  softly  in  falsetto  a  long  narrative  of 
friendship  and  the  mighty  river  and  (incidentally)  the 
love  of  a  maiden  who  slipped  away  from  her  mother's 
side  at  night  to  meet  a  handsome  student  only  to  be 
slain,  as  was  just,  by  the  hand  of  an  elder  brother. . . . 
From  the  cabin  aft  drifted  a  faint  odor  of  incense.  A 
flageolet  mingled  its  plaintive  oboe-like  note  with  the 
song  of  the  youth  by  the  rail ....  From  a  near-by  vil- 
lage came  soft  evening  sounds,  and  the  occasional 
barking  of  dogs,  and  the  beat  of  a  watchman's  gong. 
. ...  .The  greatest  of  rivers — greatest  in  traffic  and  in 
rich  memories  of  the  endless  human  drama — was  set- 
tling quietly  for  the  night. 

At  the  first  rays  of  dawn  the  forward  deck  would 
be  again  astir.  Sails  would  be  hoisted,  ropes  hauled 
aboard  and  coiled ;  and  the  shining  yellow  craft  would 
resume  her  journey  down-stream,  with  carven  and 
brightly  painted  eyes  peering  fixedly  out  at  the  bow, 
with  carefully  tended  flowers  perfuming  the  air  about 
the  after  gallery,  a  thing  of  rich  and  lovely  color  even 
on  the  rich  and  lovely  river;  slipping  by  busy  ports, 
each  with  its  vast  tangle  of  small  shipping  and  its 
innumerable  families  of  beggars  in  slipper-boats  or 
tubs  awaiting  miserably  the  steamers  and  their 
strangely  prodigal  white  passengers.  T'ai-ping  itself, 


AT  THE  HOUR  OF  THE  TIGER         277 

of  bloody  memory,  lay  still  ahead;  and  farther  yet 
Nanking  the  glorious,  and  Chin-kiang,  and  the  great 
estuary.  Slowly  the  huge  craft  would  drift  and  sail 
and  tie,  moving  patiently  on  toward  the  Shanghai  of 
the  ever-prospering  white  merchants,  the  Shanghai 
that  somewhat  vaingloriously  had  dubbed  itself  "the 
Paris  of  the  East."  And  no  one  of  the  thousands,  here 
and  there,  that  idly  watched  the  golden  junk  as  it 
moved,  not  without  a  degree  of  magnificence,  down 
the  tireless  current,  was  to  know  that  a  Manchu  vice- 
roy, a  prince  hunted  to  the  death  by  his  own  blood,  a 
statesman  known  to  the  courts  of  great  new  lands,  was 
in  hiding  within  those  timbers  of  polished  cypress. 
Nor  would  they  know  that  a  princess,  his  daughter  yet 
strangely  of  the  new  order,  voyaged  with  him  clad  in 
the  simple  costume  of  a  young  Chinese  woman.  Nor 
would  they  dream  of  certain  inexplicable  whites.  Nor 
would  they  have  cared ;  for  the  voyage  of  the  yellow 
junk  was  but  a  tiny  incident  in  the  crowded  endless 
drama  of  the  river;  to  the  millions  of  struggling, 
breeding,  dying  souls  along  the  banks  and  on  the 
water  merely  living  was  and  would  be  burden  enough. 
So  China  merely  lives — dreaming  a  little  but  hoping 
hardly  at  all — with  every  eye  on  the  furrow  or  the  till ; 
lives,  and  dies,  and — lives  again  and  on. 


Late  in  the  third  afternoon,  Rocky  Kane,  sitting, 
head  forlornly  in  hands,  in  his  narrow  room,  heard  a 


278  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

light  step — heard  it  with  every  sensitive  nerve-tip — 
and,  springing  up,  softly  drew  his  curtain.  But  the 
quick  eagerness  faded  from  his  eyes ;  for  it  was  Dixie 
Carmichael. 

Her  thin  lips  curved  in  the  faintest  of  smiles  as 
she  moved  along  the  corridor  toward  her  own  cur- 
tained door.  But  then,  as  she  passed  and  glanced  back, 
her  skirt,  in  swinging  about,  caught  on  a  nail ;  caught 
firmly;  and  as  she  stooped  to  release  it,  a  string  of 
pearls  swung  down,  broke,  and  rolled,  a  score  of  little 
opalescent  spheres,  along  the  deck,  a  few  of  them 
nearly  to  Rocky's  feet.  He  stooped — without  a 
thought  at  first — picked  them  up  and  turned  them  over 
in  his  fingers;  then,  stepping  forward  to  return  them, 
observed  with  an  odd  thrill  of  somewhat  unpleasant 
excitement,  that  the  girl  had  gone  an  ashen  color  and 
was  staring  at  him  with  something  the  look  of  a  wild 
and  hostile  animal.  She  turned  then;  glanced  with 
furtive  eyes  up  and  down  the  corridor;  and  swiftly 
gathering  up  the  remaining  pearls  clutched  them 
tightly  in  one  hand,  extending  the  other  and  saying, 
in  a  quick  half-whisper :  "Give  me  those." 

He  hesitated,  confused,  unequal  to  the  quick  clear 
thinking  he  felt,  even  then,  was  demanded  of  him. 

"What  are  you  doing  with  them?"  he  asked. 

"Not  so  loud!  Come  here!"  She  was  indicating 
her  own  doorway;  even  drawing  the  curtain;  while 
her  head  moved  just  perceptibly  toward  the  room 
immediately  beyond  her  own  where  Miss  Hui  Fei,  he 
knew,  would  be  resting  at  this  time. 


AT  THE  HOUR  OF  THE  TIGER        279 

"Where  did  you  get  them?"  he  asked,  huskily, 
doggedly. 

There  was  a  long  pause.  Again  her  subtle  gaze 
swept  the  corridor.  "You'd  better  step  in  here,"  said 
she,  very  quiet.  "I've  something  to  say  to  you." 

Sensing,  still  confusedly,  that  he  ought  to  see  the 
thing  through,  struggling  to  think,  he  yielded  to  her 
stronger  will. 

She  followed  him  into  the  room  and  let  the  curtain 
fall.  "Give  me  those  pearls,"  she  commanded  again. 

He  shook  his  head. 

During  a  tense  moment  she  studied  him.  She 
moved  over  by  the  translucent  window  of  ground 
oyster  shells,  itself,  in  the  mellow  afternoon  light,  as 
opalescent  as  the  pearls  in  her  hand  and  his.  Her  gaze, 
for  an  instant,  sought  the  wide  stain  on  the  floor  where 
the  Manila  Kid  had,  so  recently,  wretchedly  died ;  and 
her  instant  imagination  considered  the  incomprehen- 
sible mental  attitude  of  these  quiet  Chinese  who  had, 
without  a  word,  disposed  of  the  body  and  painstakingly 
cleansed  the  spot.  No  one,  observing  them  day  by 
day,  now,  as  they  calmly  pursued  their  tasks,  could 
suspect  that  the  slanting  quiet  eyes  had  so  lately  seen 
murder. .  .  .As  for  the  youth  before  her  she  was,  now 
that  her  moment  of  fright  had  passed,  supremely  con- 
fident in  her  skill  and  mental  strength.  He  was,  still, 
little  more  than  an  undeveloped  boy.  And  his  position, 
now  that  he  had  set  up  his  flag  of  reform,  would  be 
absurdly  vulnerable. 


280  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

"Once  more" — her  low  voice  was  cool  and  soft  as 
river  ice — "give  them  to  me." 

He  shook  his  head.  "Tell  me  first  where  you  got 
them." 

"If  you're  determined  to  make  a  scene,"  said  she, 
"I  advise  you  to  be  quiet  about  it.  You  wouldn't  want 
— her — to  know  you're  in  here." 

"I — I" — this  was  the  merest  boyishness — "I've 
told  her  about — well,  that  I  tried  to  make  love  to  you. 
I'm  not  afraid  of  that." 

"Still — you  wouldn't  want  her  to  hear  you  now." 

This  was  awkwardly  true.  And  his  hesitation  as 
he  tried  to  consider  it,  to  work  out  an  attitude,  ran  a 
second  too  long. 

"The  pearls  are  mine,"  she  pressed  calmly  on.  "The 
best  advice  I  can  give  you  is  to  return  them  and  go." 

"But—" 

"Do  you  think  I  want  the  people  aboard  this  junk 
— anybody — to  know  that  I  have  them?" 

"I  believe  you  stole  them  from  the  viceroy's 
place." 

"That,  of  course — Well,  never  mind!  What  you 
may  believe  is  nothing  to  me." 

"Will  you  tell  Mr.  Doane  about  them?" 

"Certainly  not.     And  you  won't." 

"Why  shouldn't  I?" 

"It's  none  of  your  business." 

"Perhaps  it's  my  duty." 

"Listen" — he  felt  himself  wholly  in  the  right,  yet 
found  difficulty  in  meeting  her  cold  pale  eyes — "it's 


AT  THE  HOUR  OF  THE  TIGER        281 

my  impression  that  I've  been  acting  rather  decently 
toward  you.    Of  course,  I  could  have — " 

"What  could  you  have  done?" 

"For  you  own  good,  keep  your  voice  down.  I  will 
tell  you  just  this — you  were  pretty  wild  in  Shanghai 
for  a  week  or  two." 

"Well?"     This  was  hurting  him;  but  he  met  it. 

"And  there's  no  likelihood  that  you've  told  her  all 
of  it.  Were  you  such  a  fool  as  to  think  you  could 
keep  it  all  secret?  Out  here  on  the  coast — and  from 
a  woman  with  as  many  underground  connections  as  I 
have?" 

"There's  nothing  that  I—" 

"Listen !  I'm  not  through  with  you.  You've  been 
a  very,  very  rough  proposition.  I  know  all  about  it. 
No — wait !  There's  something  else.  I  knew  all  about 
you  when  you  were  making  up  to  me  on  the  steamer. 
I  could  have  trapped  you  then — tangled  your  life  so 
with  mine  that  you  could  never  have  got  away  from 
me,  never  in  the  world.  But  I  didn't.  I  liked  you,  and 
I  didn't  want  to  hurt  you — then." 

"You  do  want  to  hurt  me  now?" 

"It  may  be  necessary." 

"Since  you're  taking  this  position" — he  was  find- 
ing difficulty  in  making  his  voice  heard ;  there  seemed 
to  be  danger  of  explosive  sounds — "probably  I'd  better 
just  go  to  Mr.  Doane  myself  with  these  things." 

"If  you  do  that  I'll  wreck  your  life." 

"You  don't  mean  that  you'd — " 

"You  seem  to  be  forgetting  a  good  deal." 


282  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

"But  you — " 

"I  will  defend  myself  to  the  limit.  I've  really  been 
easy  with  you.  You  see,  you  don't  know  anything 
about  me.  Least  of  all  what  harm  I  can  do.  You'd 
be  a  child  in  my  hands.  Turn  against  me  and  I'll  get 
you  if  it  takes  me  ten  years.  You'll  never  be  safe 
from  me.  Never  for  a  minute." 

He  looked  irresolutely  down  at  the  lustrous  jewels 
in  his  hand. 

"You  had  these  sewed  in  your  skirt.  There  must 
be  more  there." 

"Are  you  proposing  to  search  me  ?" 

"No— but" ....  His  black  youth  was  stabbing  now, 
viciously,  at  his  boyishly  sensitive  heart ;  but  still,  in  a 
degree,  he  met  it.  "I'm  going  to  Mr.  Doane.  I  don't 
care  what  happens  to  me." 

He  even  moved  a  soft  step  toward  the  door;  but 
paused,  lingered,  watching  her.  For  she  was  rum- 
maging among  the  covers  of  her  bed.  He  caught  a 
brief  glimpse  of  a  hand-bag  that  she  meant  him  not  to 
see.  She  took  from  a  bottle  two  green  tablets.  Then 
she  faced  him. 

To  the  startled  question  of  his  eyes  she  replied: 
"They're  corrosive  sublimate.  I  shall  take  them  now 
unless  you — give  me  the  pearls.  If  you  want  to  have 
my  death  on  your  hands,  take  them  to  Mr.  Doane. 
But  it's  only  fair  to  tell  you  that  if  you  do  it — if  you 
mix  in  this  business — your  own  life  won't  be  worth 
a  nickel.  They'll  get  you,  and  they'll  get  the  pearls. 
Bfou're  caught  in  a  bigger  game  than  you  can  play. 


AT  THE  HOUR  OF  THE  TIGER        283 

Get  out,  while  you  can" — as  the  low  swift  words  came 
she  reached  out  and  took  the  pearls  from  his  nerveless 
hand — "and  I'll  protect  you.  You  can  have  your 
pretty  Manchu  girl.  You  can  ride  around  in  a  rick- 
shaw and  look  at  old  temples  and  buy  embroideries. 
Just  don't  mix  in  affairs  that  don't  concern  you." 

"I" — he  was  pressing-  a  hand  to  a  white  forehead 
— "I've  got  to  think  it  over." 

"Remember  this,  too" — she  laid  a  hand  on  his  arm 
— "you  could  never  fasten  anything  on  me.  The  proof 
doesn't  exist.  Nobody  can  identify  unmounted  pearls. 
As  a  matter  of  fact  I  got  these" ....  during  a  brief 
but  to  her  perverse  imagination  an  intensely  pleasing 
moment  she  closed  her  eyes  and  lived  again  through 
that  strange  scene  on  the  steps  of  the  pavilion;  again 
in  vivid  fancy  rolled  over  the  inert  body  that  had  been 
Tex  Connor,  took  the  amazing  cape  of  pearls  from  his 
shirt  and  rolled  the  body  heavily  back ....  "I  got  these 
from  a  man  I  knew — an  old  friend.  Just  mind  your 
own  business  and  no  one  will  harm  you.  But  remem- 
ber, you're  walking  among  dangers.  Step  carefully. 
Keep  quiet.  Better  go  now." 

He  found  himself  in  the  corridor;  walked  slowly, 
uncertainly,  up  to  the  deck;  sat  by  the  rail  and,  head 
on  hand,  moodily  watched  the  river  and  the  hills.  He 
asked  himself  if  he  had,  by  his  very  silence,  struck  a 
bargain  with  the  girl ;  but  could  find  no  answer  to  the 
question,  only  bewilderment.  Could  it  be  that  she  was 
only  a  daring  thief?  It  could,  of  course,  but  how  to 
get  at  the  truth?  Abruptly,  then  his  thoughts  turned 


284  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

inward.  His  wild  days  had  seemed,  since  his  change 
of  heart,  of  the  remote  past;  but  they  were  not,  they 
had  still  been  the  stuff  of  his  life  within  about  a  week. 
It  was  unnerving.  He  thought,  something  morbidly, 
as  the  sensitive  young  will,  about  habits ....  The  day 
had  gone  awry,  too,  in  the  matter  of  his  love.  A  reac- 
tion had  set  in.  Hui  Fei  was  keeping  much  to  herself. 
It  had  become  difficult  to  talk  with  her  at  all.  And 

that  had  bewildered  him He  was  all  adrift,  with 

neither  sound  training  nor  a  mature  philosophy  to 
steady  him,  life  had  turned  unreal  on  his  hands ;  noth- 
ing was  real — not  Hui  or  her  father,  certainly  not 
himself,  not  even  Mr.  Doane.  His  background,  even, 
was  slipping  away,  and  with  it  his  sense  of  the  white 
race.  This,  it  seemed,  was  a  yellow  world — swarming, 
heedless,  queerly  tragic.  His  soul  was  adrift,  and 
nobody  cared.  Toward  his  father  and  mother  he  felt 
only  bitterness.  There  were,  it  appeared,  no  friends. 
He  thought,  it  seemed,  confusedly,  excitedly,  of 
everything;  of  everything  except  the  important  fact 
that  he  was  very  young. 


Early  on  the  following  morning  Doane  found  the 
little  princess  playing  about  the  deck,  and  with  a  smile 
seated  himself  beside  her.  She  settled  at  once  on  his 
knee,  chattering  brightly  in  the  Mandarin  tongue  of 
her  play  world. 

He    responded    with    a    note    of    good-humored 


AT  THE  HOUR  OF  THE  TIGER         285 

whimsy  not  out  of  key  with  her  alert  clear  imagination. 
It  was  pleasant  to  fall  again  into  the  little  intimacies 
of  the  language  that  had  become,  during  these  twenty 
years  and  more,  almost  his  own.  He  pointed  out  to 
her  the  trained  cormorants  diving  for  fish,  and  the  irri- 
gating wheels  along  the  banks;  and  then  told  quaint 
stories — of  the  first  water  buffalo,  and  of  the  magic 
rice-field. 

Soon  she,  too,  was  telling  stories — of  the  simpleton 
who  bought  herons  for  ducks,  of  the  toad  in  the  lotus 
pool,  of  the  child  that  was  born  in  a  conch  shell  and 
finally  crawled  with  it  into  the  sea,  of  the  youngest 
daughter  who  to  save  the  life  of  her  father  married  a 
snake,  of  the  magic  melon  that  grew  full  of  gold  and 
the  other  melon  that  contained  hungry  beggars,  of 
the  two  small  boys  and  the  moon  cake,  and  of  the 
curious  beginning  of  the  ant  species. 

She  scolded  him  for  his  failure,  at  the  first,  to 
laugh  with  her.  Her  happy  child  quality  stirred 
memories  of  old-time  days  in  T'ainan-fu,  when  his  own 
daughter  had  been  a  child  of  six,  playing  happily  about 
the  mission  compound.  They  were  poignant  mem- 
ories. His  eyes  were  misty  even  as  he  smiled  over  the 
bright  merriment  of  this  child,  and  in  his  heart  was 
a  growing  wistful  tenderness.  To  be  again  a  father 
would  be  a  great  privilege.  He  was  ripe  for  it  now, 
tempered  by  poverty  and  sorrow,  yet  strong,  with  a 
great  emotional  capacity  on  which  the  world  about  him 
had,  apparently,  no  claim  to  make.  He  was  simply 
cast  aside,  left  carelessly  in  an  eddy  with  the  great 


286  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

stream  of  life  flowing,  bankful,  by.  The  experience 
was  common  enough,  of  course.  In  the  great  scheme 
of  life  the  fate  of  an  individual  here  and  there  could 
hardly  matter.  He  could  tell  himself  that,  very  simply, 
quite  honestly;  and  yet  the  strength  within  him  would 
rise  and  rise  again  to  assert  the  opposite.  The  end, 
for  himself,  lay  beyond  the  range  of  conscious  thought ; 
but  at  least,  he  felt,  it  could  not  be  bitterness.  He 
seemed  to  have  passed  that  danger. . . .  The  little 
princess  was  soberly  telling  the  old  story  of  the  father- 
in-law,  the  father,  and  the  crabs  that  were  eaten  by 
the  pig.  At  the  conclusion  she  laughed  merrily;  and 
then  finding  his  response  somewhat  unsatisfactory, 
scowled  fiercely  and  with  her  plump  fingers  bent  up 
the  corners  of  his  mouth. 

He  laughed  then;  and  rolled  her  up  in  his  arms 
and  tossed  her  high  in  the  air. 

When  Hui  Fei  came  upon  them  they  were  gazing 
out  over  the  rail.  Mr.  Doane  seemed  to  be  telling  a 
long  story,  to  which  the  child  listened  intently.  She 
moved  quietly  near,  smiling;  and  after  listening  for  a 
few  moments  seated  herself  on  the  deck  behind  them. 

The  story  puzzled  her.  She  leaned  forward,  a 
charming  picture  in  her  simple  costume,  black  hair 
parted  smoothly,  oval  face  untouched  with  powder  or 
paint.  She  smiled  again,  then,  for  his  story  was 
nothing  other  than  a  free  rendering  into  Chinese  of 
Stevenson's : 

"In  Winter  I  get  up  at  night 

And  dress  by  yellow  candle-light. . ." 


AT  THE  HOUR  OF  THE  TIGER        287 

He  went  on,  when  that  was  finished,  with  a  ver- 
sion of: 

"Dark  brown  is  the  river, 
Golden  is  the  sand. ..." 

— and    other   poems    from    The    Child's    Garden    of 
Verses. 

Hui  Fei's  eyes  lighted,  as  she  listened.  Mr.  Doane, 
it  appeared,  knew  nearly  all  of  these  exquisite  verse- 
stories  of  happy  childhood  and  exhibited  surprising 
skill  in  finding  the  Chinese  equivalents  for  certain 
elusive  words.  What  a  mind  he  had ....  rich  in  read- 
ing as  in  experience,  ripe  in  wisdom,  yet  curiously 
fresh  and  elastic !  It  seemed  to  her  a  young  mind. 

The  little  princess  was  especially  pleased  with  My 
Bed  Is  a  Boat,  and  ma<le  him  repeat  it.  At  the  conclu- 
sion she  clapped  her  hands.  And  then  Hui  Fei  joined 
in  the  applause,  and  laughed  softly  when  they  turned 
in  surprise. 

"Won't  you  do  The  Land  of  Counterpane?"  she 
asked. 

4 

It  was  later,  when  the  child  had  run  off  to  play 
among  the  flowers,  that  he  and  she  fell  to  talking  as 
they  had  not  talked  during  these  recent  crowded  days. 
There  were  silences,  at  first.  Despite  his  effort  to  seem 
merely  friendly  and  kind,  he  felt  a  restraint  that  had 
to  be  fought  through.  In  this  time,  so  difficult  for 


288  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

her  at  every  point,  he  felt  deeply  that  he  must  not  fail 
her.  Her  greatest  need,  surely,  was  for  friendship. 
The  excited  youth  who  dogged  her  steps  and  hung  on 
her  most  trivial  glance  could  not  offer  that.  And  melan- 
choly had  touched  her  bright  spirit ;  he  sensitively  felt 
that  when  the  little  princess  ran  away  and  her  smile 
faded.  Sorrow  dwelt  not  far  behind  those  dark 
thoughtful  eyes. 

Early  in  the  conversation  she  spoke  of  her  father. 
Her  thoughts,  clearly,  were  always  with  him. 

"I  wan'  to  ask  you,"  said  she  simply  and  gravely, 
"if  you  know  what  he  is  doing." 

Doane  moved  his  head  in  the  negative. 

"He  has  been  in  his  room  for  more  than  a  day. 
When  I  go  to  his  door  he  is  kin'  but  he  doesn'  ask  me 
to  come  in.  And  he  doesn'  tell  me  anything." 

"He  is  not  confiding  in  me,"  said  Doane. 

"I  don'  like  that,  either,  Mis'er  Doane.  For  I 
know  he  thinks  of  you  now  as  his  closes'  frien'.  There 
is  no  other  frien'  who  knows  what  you  know.  An' 
you  have  save'  his  life  an'  mine.  My  father  is  not  a 
man  to  fail  in  frien'ship  or  in  gratituV 

Doane's  eyes,  despite  his  nearly  successful  inner 
struggles,  grew  misty  again.  Impulsively  he  took  her 
hand  gently  in  his.  At  once,  simply,  her  slender  fingers 
closed  about  his  own.  It  seemed  not  unlike  the  trust- 
ing affection  of  a  child ;  he  sensed  this  as  a  new  pain. 
Yet  there  was  strong  emotional  quality  in  her;  he  felt 
it  in  her  dark  beauty,  in  the  curve  of  her  cheek  and  the 
lustrous  troubled  splendor  in  her  eyes,  in  the  slender 


AT  THE  HOUR  OF  THE  TIGER'        289 

curves  of  her  strong  young  body.  She  was,  after  all, 
a  woman  grown;  aroused,  doubtless,  to  the  puzzling 
facts  of  life;  a  woman,  with  an  ardent  lover  close  at 
hand,  who  was — this  as  his  wholly  adult  mind  now 
saw  her — already  at  her  mating  time.  And  feeling 
this  he  gripped  her  hand  more  tightly  than  he  knew. 
But  even  so,  he  was  not  unaware  of  his  own  danger. 
It  wouldn't  do ;  once  to  release  his  own  tightly  chained 
emotions  would  be  to  render  himself  of  no  greater 
value  to  her  in  her  bewilderment  than  any  merely  pur- 
suing male.  He  set  his  teeth  on  that  thought,  and 
abruptly  withdrew  his  hand. 

She  did  not  look  up — her  gaze  was  fixed  on  the 
surface  of  the  river.  The  only  indication  she  gave 
that  she  was  so  much  as  aware  of  this  odd  little  act 
of  his  was  that  she  started  to  speak,  then  paused  for  a 
brief  instant  before  going  on. 

"I  ask — ask  myself  all  the  time  if  there  is  any- 
thing we  coul'  be  doing." 

Doane's  head  moved  again  in  the  negative. 

"If  not  even  his  gratitu' — " 

"Gratitude,"  said  Doane  gently,  "becomes  less 
than  nothing  when  it  is  demanded." 

"True,  it  can  no'  be  ask',  but  it  can  be  given." 

"Sometimes" — he  was  thinking  aloud,  dangerously 
— "I  wonder  if  any  healthy  human  act  is  free  from  the 
motive  of  self-interest.  Generosity  is  so  often  self- 
indulgence.  Self-sacrifice,  even  in  cases  where  it  may 
be  regarded  as  wholly  sane,  may  be  only  a  culmination 
or  a  confusion  of  little  understood  desires." 


290  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

She  looked  up  at  this;  considered  it. 

"Certainly,"  he  went  on,  "your  father  owes  me 
nothing." 

Her  hand  moved  a  little  way  toward  his,  only  to 
hesitate  and  draw  back.  She  looked  away,  saying  in 
a  clouded  voice :  "He — and  I — owe  you  everything." 

It  wouldn't  do.  Doane  waited  a  long  moment,  then 
spoke  in  what  seemed  more  nearly  his  own  proper 
character — quietly,  kindly,  with  hardly  an  outward 
sign  of  the  intensely  personal  feeling  of  which  his 
heart  was  so  full. 

"Your  father  has  spoken  to  me  of  you  as  an 
experiment." 

"You  mean  my  life — my  education." 

"Yes.  He  feels,  too,  that  the  experiment  has  not 
yet  been  fully  worked  out.  I  often  think  of  that — 
your  future.  It  is  interesting,  you  know.  You  have 
responded  amazingly  to  the  spirit  of  the  West.  And 
of  course  you'll  have  to  do  something  about  it." 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  she,  musing,  "of  course." 

"Whatever  personal  interests  may  for  a  time — or 
at  times — absorb  your  life". . .  .this  was  as  close  as  he 
dared  trust  himself  to  the  topic  of  marriage. . .  ."I  feel 
about  you  that  your  life  will  seek  and  find  some  strong 
outward  expression." 

"Yes — I  have  often  fel'  that  too.  Of  course,  at 
college  I  like'  to  speak.  I  went  in  a  good  'eal  for  the 
debates,  an'  for  class  politics." 

"You  have  an  active  mind.  And  you  have  a  fine 
heritage.  Knowing — even  feeling — both  East  and 


AT  THE  HOUR  OF  THE  TIGER"       291 

West  as  you  do,  your  life  is  bound  to  find  some  public 
outlet.  Something." 

"I  know."  She  seemed  moody  now,  in  a  gentle 
way.  Her  fingers  picked  at  a  rope.  "But  I  don' 
know  what.  I  don'  think  I  woul'  like  teaching. 
Writing,  perhaps.  Even  speaking.  That  is  so  easy; 
for  me." 

"There  is  a  service  that  you  are  peculiarly  fitted 
to  perform."  She  glanced  up  quickly,  waited.  "It  is 
a  thought  that  keeps  coming  to  my  mind.  Perhaps 
because  it  will  probably  become  the  final  expression  of 
my  own  life.  For  my  life  is  curiously  like  yours  in 
one  way.  You  remember,  that — that  night  when  we 
first  talked — on  the  steamer — " 

"I  climb'  the  ladder,"  she  murmured,  picking  again 
at  the  rope. 

" — And  we  agreed  that  we  were  both,  you  and  I" 
— his  voice  grew  momentarily  unsteady — "between 
the  worlds." 

"Yes,  I  remember."  He  could  barely  hear  her. 
"It  is  true,  of  course." 

"It  is  true.  And  for  myself,  I  feel  more  and  more 
strongly  every  day  that  I  must  pitch  into  the  tremen- 
dous task  of  helping  to  make  the  East  known  to  the 
West." 

"Tha*  woul'  be  won'erful!"  she  breathed. 

"I  have  come  to  feel  that  it  is  the  one  great  want 
in  Western  civilization,  that  the  philosophy,  the  art, 
the  culture,  indeed,  of  China  has  never  been  woven 
into  our  heritage.  It  is  strange,,  in  a  way — we  derived 


292  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

our  religion  from  certain  primitive  tribes  in  Syria. 
But  they  had  little  culture.  The  Christian  religion 
teaches  conduct  but  very  nearly  ignores  beauty.  And 
then  there  is  our  insistent  pushing  forth  of  the  indi- 
vidual. I  have  come  to  believe  that  our  West  will 
seem  less  crass,  less  materialistic,  when  the  individual 
is  somewhat  subdued."  He  smiled.  "We  need 
patience — sheer  quality  of  thought — the  fine  art  of 
reflection.  We  shall  not  find  these  qualities  at  their 
best,  even  in  Europe.  They  exist,  in  full  flower,  only 
in  China.  And  America  doesn't  know  that.  Not 
now." 

A  little  later  he  said :  "That  work  has  been  begun, 
of  course,  in  a  small  way.  A  slight  sense  of  Chinese 
culture  is  creeping  into  our  colleges,  here  and  there. 
Some  of  the  poetry  is  being-  translated.  The  art 
museums  are  reaching  out  for  the  old  paintings.  The 
Freer  collection  of  paintings  will  some  day  be  thrown 
open  to  the  public.  But  traditions  grow  very  slowly. 
It  will  take  a  hundred  years  to  make  America  aware 
of  China  as  it  is  now  aware  of  Italy,  Egypt,  Greece, 
even  old  Assyria. . .  .and  the  thing  must  be  freed  from 
Japanese  influence — we  can't  much  longer  afford  to 
look  at  wonderful,  rich  old  China  through  the  Japanese 
lens/' 

"An'  you're  going  to  make  tha'  your  work," 
observed  Hui  Fei. 

"I  must.  I  begin  to  feel  that  it  is  to  be  the  only; 
final  explanation  of  my  life." 

There  was  a  silence.    Then,  abruptly,  in  a  tone  he 


AT  THE  HOUR  OF  THE  TIGER        293 

did  not  understand,  she  asked :  "Are  you  going  to  work 
for  the  Revolution?" 

"That  is  the  immediate  thing — yes.  I  shall  offer 
my  services." 

"Coul'  I  do  anything,  you  think?  At  Shanghai,  I 
mean?  Of  course,  I'm  a  Manchu  girl,  but  I  can  no' 
stand  with  the  Manchu  Gover'ment.  I  am  not  even 
with  my — my  father  there." 

"It  is  possible.  I  don't  know.  We  shall  soon  be 
there." 

"Will  you  tell  me  then — at  Shanghai  ?" 

He  inclined  his  head.  Suddenly  he  couldn't 
speak.  She  was  holding  to  him,  as  if  it  were  a  matter 
of  course;  yet  he  dared  not  read  into  her  attitude  a 
personal  meaning  of  the  only  sort  that  could  satisfy 
his  hungry  heart.  The  difficulty  lay  in  his  active 
imagination.  Like  that  of  an  eager  boy  it  kept  racing 
ahead  of  any  possible  set  of  facts.  All  he  could  do,  of 
course,  was  to  go  on  curbing  it,  from  hour  to  hour. 
It  would  be  harder  seeing  her  at  Shanghai  than  run- 
ning away,  as  he  had  half-consciously  been  planning. 
But  it  was  something  that  she  clung  to  him  as  a 
friend.  He  mustn't,  couldn't,  really,  fail  her  there. 


All  of  the  last  day  they  sailed  the  wide  and  steadily 
widening  estuary.  The  lead-colored  water  was 
roughened  by  the  following  wind  that  drove  the  junk 
rapidly  on  toward  her  journey's  end.  But  toward  sun- 


294  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

set  wind  and  sea  died  down,  and  under  sweeps,  late  in 
the  evening,  the  craft  moved  into  the  Wusung  River 
and  moored  for  the  night  within  sight  of  a  line  of 
war-ships. 

A  feeling  of  companionship  grew  strongly  among 
those  fugitives,  yellow  and  white,  as  the  evening 
advanced.  They  had  passed  together  through  dan- 
gerous and  dramatic  scenes.  Now  that  danger  and 
drama  were  alike,  it  seemed,  over,  with  the  peacable 
shipping  of  all  the  world  lying  just  ahead  up  the  nar- 
row channel,  with,  in  the  morning  to  come,  a  fresh 
view  of  the  bund  at  Shanghai,  where  hotels,  banks 
and  European  clubs  elbowed  the  great  trading  hongs, 
with  motor-cars  and  Sikh  police  and  the  bright  flags 
of  the  home  land  so  soon  to  be  spread  before  their 
weary  eyes,  they  gathered  on  the  after  gallery  to  chat 
and  watch  the  flashing  signal  lights  of  the  cruisers  and 
the  trains  on  the  river  bank,  and  dream  each  his  sepa- 
rate dream.  Even  Dixie  Carmichael,  though  herself 
untouched  by  sentiment,  joined,  for  reasons  of  policy, 
the  little  party.  Hui  Fei  was  there,  between  Doane 
and  the  moodily  silent  Rocky  Kane.  The  Chinese  ser- 
vants smilingly  grouped  themselves  on  the  deck  just 
above.  And  finally — though  it  is  custom  among  these 
Easterners  to  sleep  during  the  dark  hours  and  rise  with 
the  morning  light — his  excellency  appeared,  walking 
alone  over  the  deck,  smiling  in  the  friendliest  fashion 
and  greeting  them  with  hands  clasped  before  his  breast. 

Doane  felt  a  little  hand  steal  for  a  moment  into  his 
with  a  nervous  pressure.     His  own  relief  was  great. 


AT  THE  HOUR  OF  THE  TIGER        295 

For  this  smiling-  gentleman  could  hardly  be  regarded 
as  one  about  to  die.  They  placed  him  in  the  steamer 
chair  of  woven  rushes  from  Canton.  And  pleasantly, 
then,  their  last  evening  together  passed  in  quiet  talk. 

His  excellency  was  in  reminiscent  mood.  He  had 
been  a  young  officer,  it  transpired,  in  the  T'ai-ping1 
Rebellion,  and  had  fought  during  the  last  three  years 
of  that  frightful  thirteen-year  struggle  up  and  down 
the  great  river,  taking  part  in  the  final  assault  on  Su- 
chau  as  a  captain  in  the  "Ever  Victorious"  army  of 
General  Gordon.  Regarding  that  brilliant  English 
officer  he  spoke  freely;  Doane  translating  a  sentence, 
here  and  there,  for  young  Kane. 

"Gordon  never  forgave  Li  Hung  Chang,"  he  said, 
"for  the  murder  of  the  T'ai-ping  Wangs,  during  the 
peace  banquet.  It  was  on  Prince  Li's  own  barge,  in 
the  canal  by  the  Eastern  Gate  of  the  city.  Gordon 
claimed  that  Li  procured  the  murder.  He  was  a  hot- 
blooded  man,  Gordon,  often  too  quick  and  rough  in 
speech.  Li  told  me,  years  later,  that  the  attack  was 
directed  as  much  against  himself  as  against  the  Wangs, 
and  regarded  himself  as  fortunate  to  escape.  He 
never  forgave  Gordon  for  his  insulting  speech.  But 
Gordon  was  a  vigorous  brave  man.  It  was  a  privilege 
to  observe  him  tirelessly  at  work,  planning  by  night, 
fighting  by  day — organizing,  demanding  money, 
money,  money — with  great  energy  moving  troops  and 
supplies.  He  could  not  be  beaten.  He  was  indeed  the 
'Ever  Victorious.' ' 

It  was,  later,  his  excellency  who  asked  Hui  Fei  and 


296  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

young  Kane  to  sing  the  American  songs  that  had 
floated  on  one  or  two  occasions  through  his  window 
below.  They  complied;  and  Dixie  Carmichael,  in  an 
agreeable  light  voice,  joined  in.  At  the  last  Doane 
was  singing  bass. 

The  party  was  breaking  up — his  excellency  had 
already  gone  below — when  Rocky,  moved  to  the  point 
of  exquisite  pain,  caught  the  hand  of  Hui  Fei. 

"Please!"  he  whispered.     "Just  a  word!" 

"Not  now.     I  mus'  go." 

"But — it's  our  last  evening — I've  tried  to  be  patient 
— it'll  be  all  different  at  Shanghai — I  can't  let  you ..." 

But  she  slipped  away,  leaving  the  youth  whispering 
brokenly  after  her.  He  leaned  for  a  long  time  on  the 
rail  then,  looking  heavily  at  the  winking  lights  of  the 
cruisers.  It  was  a  relief  to  see  Mr.  Doane  coming 
over  the  deck.  Certainly  he  couldn't  sleep.  Not  now. 
His  heart  was  full  to  breaking....  The  fighting 
impulse  rose.  During  this  past  day  or  so  he  had 
seemed  to  be  losing  ground  in  his  struggle  with  self. 
The  startling  incident  in  Miss  Carmichael's  room  had 
turned  out,  he  felt,  still  confusedly,  as  a  defeat.  It 
had  left  him  unhappy.  This  night,  out  there  in  the 
blossom-scented  gallery,  he  had  sensed  the  strange 
girl,  close  at  hand,  cool  as  a  child,  singing  the  old  col- 
lege songs  with  apparent  quiet  enjoyment,  as  an 
uncanny  thing,  a  sinister  force.  Even  when  speaking 
to  Hui  Fei,  her  influence  had  enveloped  him ....  This 
would  be  just  one  more  little  battle.  And  it  must  be 
won. 


AT  THE  HOUR  OF  THE  TIGER        297 

Accordingly  he  told  Mr.  Doane  the  story.  The 
older  man  considered  it,  slowly  nodding. 

"It  is  probably  the  fact,"  he  said,  at  length,  "that 
she  stole  the  pearls  at  Huang-  Chau.  She  was  with 
Connor  and  Watson.  But  it  is  also  a  fact  that  she 
might  have  pearls  of  her  own.  And  in  traveling  alone 
through  a  revolution  it  would  be  her  right  to  conceal 
them  as  she  chose.  It  is  true,  too,  that  unset  pearls 
couldn't  be  identified  easily,  if  at  all.  And  she  is 
clever — she  wouldn't  weaken  under  charges ....  No, 
I  don't  see  what  we  can  do,  beyond  watching  the  thing 
closely.  As  for  her  threats  against  you,  they  are 
partly  rubbish." 

But  Rocky  cared  little,  now,  what  they  might  be. 
Once  again  he  had  cleaned  the  black  slate  of  his  youth. 
His  head  was  high  again.  He  could  speak  to  Hui 
Fei  convincingly  in  the  morning. 


His  excellency,  alone  in  his  cabin,  took  from  his 
hand-bag  the  book  of  precepts  of  Chuang  Tzii;  and 
seated  on  his  pallet,  by  the  small  table  on  which  burned 
a  floating  wick  in  its  vessel  of  oil,  read  thoughtfully  as 
follows : 

"Chuang  Tzii  one  day  saw  an  empty  skull,  bleached 
but  intact,  lying  on  the  ground.  Striking  it  with  his 
riding  whip,  he  cried,  'Wert  thou  once  some  ambitious 
citizen  whose  inordinate  yearnings  brought  him  to  this 
pass? — some  statesman  who  plunged  his  country  into 


298  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

ruin  and  perished  in  the  fray? — some  wretch  who  left 
behind  him  a  legacy  of  shame? — some  beggar  who 
died  in  the  pangs  of  hunger  and  cold?  Or  didst  thou 
reach  this  state  by  the  natural  course  of  old  age  ?' 

"When  he  had  finished  speaking,  he  took  the  skull 
and,  placing  it  under  his  head  as  a  pillow,  went  to 
sleep.  In  the  night  he  dreamt  that  the  skull  appeared 
to  him  and  said :  'You  speak  well,  sir ;  but  all  you  say 
has  reference  to  the  life  of  mortals  and  to  mortal 
troubles.  In  death  there  are  none  of  these ....  In 
death  there  is  no  sovereign  above,  and  no  subject 
below.  The  workings  of  the  four  seasons  are  unknown. 
Our  existences  are  bounded  only  by  eternity.  The 
happiness  of  a  king  among  men  can  not  exceed  that 
which  we  enjoy/ 

"Chuang  Tzii,  however,  was  not  convinced,  and 
said :  'Were  I  to  prevail  upon  God  to  allow  your  body 
to  be  born  again,  and  your  bones  and  flesh  to  be 
renewed,  so  that  you  could  return  to  your  parents,  to 
your  wife  and  to  the  friends  of  your  youth,  would  you 
be  willing?' 

"At  this  the  skull  opened  its  eyes  wide  and  knitted 
its  brows  and  said :  'How  should  I  cast  aside  happiness 
greater  than  that  of  a  king,  and  mingle  once  again  in 
the  toils  and  troubles  of  mortality  ?' " 

He  closed  the  book ;  laid  on  the  table  his  European 
watch ;  and  sat  for  a  long  time  in  meditation.  As  the 
hands  of  the  watch  neared  the  hour  of  three  in  the 
morning,  he  took  from  the  bag  a  box  of  writing  mater- 
ials, a  small  red  book  and  a  bottle  of  ^hite  pills. 


AT  THE  HOUR  OF  THE  TIGER        299 

The  leaves  of  the  book  were  the  thinnest  gold.  On 
one  of  these  he  inscribed,  with  delicate  brush,  the 
Chinese  characters  meaning  "Everlasting  happiness." 
Tearing  out  the  leaf,  then,  he  wrapped  loosely  in  it  one 
of  the  pills — these  were  morphine,  of  the  familiar  sort 
manufactured  in  Japan  and  sold  extensively  in  China 
since  the  decline  of  the  opium  traffic — and  swallowed 
them  together.  He  inscribed  and  took  another,  and 
another,  and  another. 

Gradually  a  sense  of  drowsy  comfort,  of  utter 
physical  well-being,  came  over  him.  The  pupils  of 
his  eyes  shrunk  down  to  the  merest  pin-points.  His 
head  drooped  forward.  His  frail  old  body  fell  on  the 
bed  and  lay  peacefully  there  as  his  spirit  sought  its 
destiny  in  the  unchanging,  everlasting  Tao. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

HIS    EXCELLENCY    SPEAKS 

¥T  was  daybreak.  Doane,  standing  in  his  cabin  by 
the  opened  window,  looked  out  with  melancholy  in 
his  deep-set  eyes  over  the  muddy  low  reaches  that  bor- 
der the  Wusung.  It  was  a  familiar  scene;  indeed  he 
knew  it  better  than  any  spot  in  his  native  land — the 
railroad  along  the  bank,  the  brick  warehouses,  the 
native  village  of  Wusung,  the  inevitable  humble  fam- 
ilies in  the  fields  gathering  in  the  last  crops  of  the 
season. 

Overhead  the  laopan  was  shouting,  tackle 
creaked,  the  crew  half  sang,  half  grunted  their 
chanties.  From  the  cruisers,  one  after  another,  float- 
ing musically  on  the  still  air,  came  the  call  of  bugles — 
the  reveille  of  the  American  navy.  So  these  were  ships 
from  home.  The  stars  and  stripes  would  soon,  at 
"colors,"  be  rippling  from  each  gray  stern. ...  There 
was  an  ache  in  his  heart. 

Then  other  noises  came — a  little  confusion  of 
them,  somewhere  here  on  the  junk — excited  whispers. 
a  sound  that  might  have  been  sobbing,  and  then — yes ! 
— the  low  wailing  of  women. 

300 


HIS  EXCELLENCY   SPEAKS  301 

He  turned ;  listened  closely.  Light  feet  came  run- 
ning along  the  corridor.  A  familiar,  lovely  voice  called 
his  name,  brokenly.  Then  Hui  Fei  drew  aside  his  cur- 
tain. Her  cheeks  were  stained  with  tears. 

Quickly,  his  arm  about  her  shoulders  as  she  swayed 
unsteadily,  but  without  a  word,  he  walked  beside  her 
along  the  corridor  to  the  cabin  of  his  excellency .... 
There  were  the  few  servants,  kneeling  by  the  inert 
body  and  bowing  their  heads  to  the  floor  as  they 
mourned  ...*....  Doane  straightened  the  body  and  closed 
the  eyes.,.!*.,.  ^It  was  Hui  Fei  who  found  the  roll  of 
documents  on  the  table  and  placed  them  in  Doane's 
.hands.  He  saw  then,  through  the  mist  that  clouded 
his  own  eyes,  that  they  were  addressed  to  himself :  "To 
my  dear  friend,  Griggsby  Doane,  I  entrust  these  my 
last  papers."  The  name  alone  was  in  English ;  written 
in  a  clear  hand,  not  unlike  that  of  a  painstaking  school- 
boy, each  letter  carefully  and  roundly  formed. 

Hui  Fei  sent  the  servants  to  another  cabin,  but 
remained  herself,  seated  on  the  floor  by  the  side  of  the 
huge  stroog  man  who  was  now  without  question  the 
head  of  the  strangely  assorted  family.  She  was  calmer. 
Doane  did  not  again  hear  her  sob;  he  did  not  even 
see  tears.  During  that  difficult  moment  when  Rocky 
Kane  appeared  in  the  doorway  and  asked  huskily, 
sadly,  if  he  could  help,  she  even  smiled,  very  faintly, 
very  gently,  as  she  moved  her  head  in  the  negative. 
And  the  youth,  after  a  hesitant  moment,  left  them. 

Doane  spread  out  the  documents  on  the  floor.  The 
first,  addressed  directly  to  himself,  he  laid  aside  for 


302  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

the  moment.  To  the  second,  addressed  to  the  throne 
— "by  the  hand  of  His  Imperial  Highness,  Prince 
Ch'un,  Regent,  as  soon  as  it  may  be  possible  to  convey 
to  him  in  this  hour  of  China's  sorrow  this  inadequate 
expression  of  my  last  thoughts" — was  attached  a 
paper  requesting  that  "my  closest  friend,  Griggsby 
Doane"  read  it  thoughtfully,  "in  order  that  he  may 
understand  fully  the  circumstances  in  which  I  find 
myself  at  this  the  end  of  my  long  life. 

"I,  your  unworthy  servant," — it  read — "have 
learned  with  sorrow  and  tears  of  the  decree  permitting 
me  to  withdraw  from  this  troubled  life  in  solitude 
and  peace  without  the  painful  consequences  of  a  death 
by  the  headsman's  sword.  And  in  bowing  humbly  to 
your  will  I,  your  unworthy  servant,  recognize  that  my 
life  lies  wholly  in  your  hands  to  be  disposed  of  as 
seems  best  to  the  imperial  wisdom.  But  in  thus  prov- 
ing my  never  weakening  loyalty  to  the  imperial  will  I 
also  must  express  the  sober  thoughts  of  one  who  has 
pondered  long  over  the  evils  that  beset  our  land  and 
who  has  ventured  at  times,  weakly,  to  hope  that  China 
might  pay  heed  to  certain  lessons  of  recent  history  and 
find  a  way  to  oppose  successfully  the  pressure  of  other 
powerful  nations  upon  us.  For  it  has  been  my  privi- 
lege, as  a  long-time  servant  of  the  throne,  to  observe 
certain  of  these  other  nations  at  first  hand  and  to 
learn  a  little  of  their  power,  which  is  very  great. 

"On  another  occasion  I,  your  unworthy  servant, 
wittingly  incurred  danger  of  death  or  imprisonment, 
because,  in  the  eagerness  of  my  convictions,  I  dared 


HIS   EXCELLENCY   SPEAKS  303 

to  suggest  certain  reforms  to  the  throne.  There  is  a 
saying  that  the  tree  which  bends  before  the  gale  will 
never  be  broken  off  but  will  grow  to  a  ripe  old  age, 
and  my  hope  has  always  been  for  a  great  and  growing 
China.  At  that  time  princes  and  ministers  about  the 
throne  asked  permission  to  subject  me  to  a  criminal 
investigation,  but  his  late  majesty  was  pleased  to  spare 
me.  Therefore  my  last  years  have  been  a  boon  at  the 
hand  of  his  late  majesty." 

There  followed  a  clear,  dignified  statement  of  the 
urgent  need  for  vast  reforms.  His  excellency  recalled 
:*n  detail  his  long  years  of  service  and  his  decorations 
and  honors.  Quietly  he  called  attention  to  the  fact 
that  all,  or  nearly  all,  China  was  in  revolt,  that  the 
throne  tottered,  that  to  permit  the  government  longer 
to  be  dominated  by  corrupt  eunuchs  was  an  affront  to 
modern  as  to  ancient  thought  and  morality.  It  was 
clear  to  himself,  he  stated,  that  without  a  skilfully 
organized  system  of  gradual,  perhaps  rapid,  moderni- 
zation, China  would  soon  crumble  to  pieces  under  the 
heel  of  the  greedy  foreigners.  And  there  was  profound 
pathos  in  the  passing  remark  that  perhaps  his  suicide, 
far  from  home,  his  vast  estate  seized  by  government 
agents  or  despoiled  by  robbers,  his  person,  alone, 
beyond  the  reach  of  harm — safe,  in  fact,  with  the  hated 
foreigners — might  stand  as  a  final  proof  of  his  loyalty 
to  the  throne  in  serving  which  his  long  life  had  been 
spent. 

"But  at  the  moment  of  leaving  this  world  I  feel 
that  my  mind  is  not  so  clear  as  I  could  wish.  The  text 


304  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

of  this  my  memorial  is  ill-written  and  lacking  in  clarity 
of  thought.  I  am  no  such  scholar  as  the  men  of  olden 
times;  how,  then,  could  I  face  the  end  with  the  calm 
which  they  showed  ?  But  there  is  a  saying,  'The  words 
of  a  dying  man  are  good.'  Though  I  am  about  to  die, 
it  is  possible  that  my  words  are  not  good.  I  can  only 
hope  that  the  empress  and  the  emperor  will  pity  my 
last  sad  utterance,  regarding  it  neither  as  wanton 
babbling  nor  the  careless  complaint  of  a  trifling  mind. 
Thus  shall  I  die  without  regret.  I  wish,  indeed,  that 
my  words  may  prove  overwrought,  in  order  that  those 
who  come  after,  perhaps  more  happily,  may  laugh  at 
my  foolishness. 

"I  pray  the  empress  and  the  emperor  to  remember 
the  example  of  our  great  rulers  of  the  past  in  temper- 
ing peace  with  mercy;  that  they  may  choose  only  the 
worthy  for  public  service;  that  they  may  refrain  from 
striving  for  those  things  desired  by  the  foreigners, 
which  would  only  plunge  China  into  deeper  woe,  but 
that  by  a  careful  study  of  what  is  good  in  foreign 
lands  they  may  help  China  to  hold  up  her  head  among 
the  nations  and  bring  us  finally  to  prosperity  and 
happiness.  This  is  my  last  prayer,  the  end  and  crown 
of  my  life." 


The  junk  was  moving  up  the  (river  as  Doane 
finished  reading,  passing  one  of  the  war-ships.  The 
bugles  were  blowing  again.  A  beam  of  warm  sunlight 


HIS  EXCELLENCY  SPEAKS  305 

slanted  in  through  the  window  of  stained  glass  and 
threw  a  kaleidoscope  of  color  on  the  wall. 

Hui  Fei  sat  motionless,  her  hands  folded  humbly 
in  her  lap,  gazing  at  the  floor.  Her  face  was  expres- 
sionless. She  seemed  wholly  Oriental. 

With  a  sigh,  Doane  rolled  the  memorial  and  tied 
it  with  the  ribbon.  The  one  beneath  it;  he  saw  now, 
was  addressed  to  Hui  Fei.  Without  a  word  he  handed 
it  to  her  and  then  settled  to  read  his  own.  Hers  was 
the  shorter.  When  she  had  finished  she  lowered  it  to 
her  lap  and  sat  motionless,  as  before. 

Doane  now  took  up  the  paper  addressed  to  himself 
and  read  as  follows : 

"My  friend,  Griggsby  Doane,  grieve  not  for  me, 
and  be  sure  that  in  the  manner  of  my  end  I  have  had 
no  wish  to  bring  evil  upon  you.  It  is  in  a  measure 
sad  that  this  end  should  come  upon  a  hired  junk  instead 
of  on  a  plot  of  hallowed  ground,  as  I  would  have 
chosen.  But  there  was  no  choice.  I  have  waited  until 
assured  of  my  daughter's  safety. 

"Inform  the  magistrate  at  Shanghai  of  my  death, 
and  see  that  my  Memorial  to  the  Throne  is  forwarded 
promptly.  Give  to  my  daughter  Hui  Fei  the  letter 
addressed  to  her.  It  is  my  wish  that  you  also  should 
read  that  letter,  and  I  have  so  instructed  her.  It  is 
also  my  wish  that  she  should  read  this  letter  to  you. 
Buy  for  me  a  cheap  coffin,  and  have  it  painted  black 
inside.  The  poor  clothes  I  wear  must  serve,  but  I 
wish  that  the  soiled  soles  of  my  shoes  be  cut  off. 
Twenty  or  thirty  taels  will  be  ample  for  the  coffin. 


306  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

I  do  not  believe  it  will  be  necessary  for  the  magistrate 
to  hold  an  inquest.  Please  have  a  coating  of  lacquer 
put  on  the  coffin,  to  fill  up  any  cracks,  and  have  the 
cover  nailed  down  pending  the  throne's  decision  as  to 
my  remains.  Then  buy  a  small  plot  of  ground  near 
the  Taoist  temple  outside  of  Shanghai  and  have  me 
buried  as  soon  as  possible.  There  is  no  need  to  con- 
sider waiting  for  an  opportunity  to  bury  me  at  my 
ancestral  home ;  any  place  is  good  enough  for  a  loyal 
and  honest  man. 

"You  will  find  about  a  thousand  taels  in  my  bag, 
also  the  few  jewels  we  found  at  my  home.  Sell  the 
jewels  and  keep  for  yourself  the  balance  that  will 
remain  after  my  burial  expenses  are  paid.  The  laopcm 
of  this  junk  has  his  money.  This  he  will  deny,  and 
will  cry  for  more ;  but  do  not  heed  him. 

"Remember  there  is  nothing  strange  or  abnormal 
in  my  passing;  death  has  become  my  duty.  It  may 
be  true  that  the  historic  throne  of  the  Manchus  is 
rocking,  is  falling,  but  despite  the  understanding 
that  has  been  given  to  me  of  what  is  good  in  Western 
civilization  I  have  never  swayed  in  my  heart  from  loy- 
alty to  that  throne  and  steadfast  devotion  to  its  best 
interests  as  I  can  see  them,  and  I  do  no  less  than  obey 
the  mandate  of  my  empress  and  my  emperor. 

"Do  not  grieve  unduly  for  me.  It  is  my  wish  that 
all  of  you,  my  friends  and  family,  should  live  happily 
in  the  life  that  lies  before  you.  To  you,  Griggsby 
Doane,  out  of  the  gratitude  and  admiration  of  my 
proud  heart,  I  give  and  bequeath  all  the  little  that  may 


HIS   EXCELLENCY   SPEAKS  307 

be  left  of  my  worldly  goods,  including  the  money,  the 
pitiful  handful  of  jewels,  the  historic  paintings  and  my 
daughter  Hui  Fei.  It  is  my  wish  that  you  will  marry 
her  at  once,  and  that  in  your  best  judgment  you  sell 
any  or  all  of  the  paintings  to  provide  what  money  you 
and  she  may  need,  and  also  that  you  and  she  care  lov- 
ingly for  the  younger  child.  It  may  be  better  to  edu- 
cate her  in  the  Western  manner,  but  that  will  be  as 
you  may  decide.  In  the  matter  of  this  marriage  with 
my  daughter,  Hui  Fei,  I  have  sought  the  opinion  of 
each  of  you  regarding  the  other.  I  have  your  assur- 
ance that  it  has  been  your  own  wish.  And  Hui  Fei 
informs  me  that  she  respects  and  admires  no  man  more 
than  yourself.  You  will  see,  therefore,  that  I  have 
approached  this  matter  in  the  Western  spirit,  and  as  a 
result  I  see  no  reason  why  the  marriage  should  be 
delayed  or  that  my  beloved  daughter  should  be  left 
alone  at  the  mercy  of  an  unscrupulous  world.  I  have 
informed  her,  also,  of  my  decision.  My  gifts  to  you 
make  a  most  inadequate  dowry,  but  they  are  all  I 
have.  I  wish  for  you  both  great  happiness  and  many 
descendants. 

"And  now,  Griggsby  Doane,  my  dear  friend,  I  take 
my  leave  of  you.  I,  at  seventy-four  years  of  age,  can 
claim  an  unsullied  record.  My  family  tree  goes  back 
more  than  seven  hundred  years;  for  three  centuries 
there  have  been  members  of  my  clan  in  the  Imperial 
Household  or  in  the  Government  Bureaus,  and  for 
four  hundred  years  we  have  devoted  ourselves  to  hus- 
bandry and  scholarship.  For  twenty-four  generations 


3o8  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

my  family  has  borne  a  good  name.  I  die  now  in  order 
that  a  lifetime  of  devotion  to  duty  and  loyalty  to  the 
throne  may  be  consummated." 


Slowly  Doane  lowered  the  document.  He  could 
not  speak;  he  could  hardly  think.  There  beside  him, 
still  motionless,  sat  the  young  woman  who  was  now, 
by  all  the  traditions  of  her  people,  abruptly  his. 

Dutifully,  observing  that  he  had  finished  reading, 
she  gave  him  her  own  letter;  and  he,  in  exchange, 
handed  her  his.  Thus  they  read  on.  And  then,  again 
quietly  exchanging  the  documents,  they  sat  without  a 
word  by  the  peaceful  body. 

Little  by  little  Doane's  brain  cleared.  It  was  a 
time,  he  felt — the  time,  indeed — when  all  his  experi- 
ence, all  his  character  and  skill,  must  come  into  use. 
Now,  if  ever,  he  must  be  wise  and  steady  and  kind. 
Very  gently  he  took  her  hand;  it  lay  softly  in  his; 
she  did  not  lift  her  eyes. 

"We  will  not  think  of  this  matter  now,"  he  said. 
"Our  only  thought  must  be  to  carry  out  his  plans 
regarding  the  funeral.  If  it  shouldn't  seem  best,  later, 
to  fulfill  quite  all  his  last  wishes,  perhaps  he,  from  the 
other  side  of  the  barrier,  will  understand  what  he 
couldn't  wholly  understand  while  on  this  earth.  But 
this  I  must  say  now — whatever  direction  your  life  may 
take,  try  to  think  of  me  as  filling,  the  best  I  can, 
your  father's  place.  I  shall  hope  to  be  your  dearest 


HIS  EXCELLENCY   SPEAKS  309 

friend.  Lean  on  me.  Use  me.  And  be  sure  I  will 
understand." 

Her  slim  fingers  tightened  once  again  about  his. 

"He  was  a  won'erful  father,"  she  began,  and 
choked  a  little. 

He  left  her  there;  sent  in  her  maid  to  her;  himself 
mounted  to  the  deck. 

The  sun  was  well  up.  Other  junks  sailed  up  and 
down  the  tide.  A  bluff-bowed  freighter,  flying  the 
Dutch  flag,  lay  at  anchor  near  one  of  the  Chinese  tor- 
pedo boats  that  had  gone  over  to  the  chaotic  new 
republic.  The  American  steamers  were  far  astern,  but 
a  motor  launch  flying  an  officer's  flag  and  with  blue 
uniforms  visible  under  the  awning,  plowed  by  on  her 
way  up  to  the  city.  In  the  distance,  up  ahead,  beyond 
the  crowding  masts  and  funnels  of  the  steamers  that 
came  from  all  the  world,  could  be  seen  the  buildings 
and  spires  and  the  smoke-haze  of  European  Shanghai. 
....  The  bund  there,  within  a  few  hours  now,  would 
be  crowded  with  pony-carriages  and  motor-cars  and 
over-fed  tourists  riding  in  rickshaws  drawn  by  ragged 
coolies.  The  hotels  would  be  thronging  with  talkative 
young  women  and  drink-flushed  men,  all  eagerly 
retailing  confused  and  inaccurate  news  of  "the  revolu- 
tion" ;  out  at  the  British  country  club  on  Bubbling 
Well  Road  blond  men  would  be  playing  tennis  in 
flannels;  and  the  gambling  houses  would  be  brightly 
illuminated  until  late  at  night,  and  the  Chinese  shop- 
keepers in  Nanking  Road  would  be  selling  their 
souvenir  trinkets,  their  useless  little  boxes  of  coin- 


3io  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

silver  and  cloisonne  and  damascene  work  and  their 
painted  snuff-bottles  and  green  soapstone  necklaces 
and  blue-and-white  pottery  quite  as  if  no  troubles  could 
ever  arise  to  disturb  the  destiny  of  nations. 

Doane  sighed  again.  The  last  letter  of  his  excel- 
lency was  in  his  hand,  held  tightly ;  though  he  was  not 
at  this  time  aware  of  it.  He  glanced  aft,  and  saw 
Rocky  Kane  standing  on  the  gallery,  among  the 
flowers,  gazing  not  forward  toward  the  jangling, 
money-seeking,  pleasure-mad  city  that  is  the  principal 
point  of  contact  between  the  culture  of  the  West  and 
that  of  the  East,  but  off  astern,  as  if  endeavoring  to 
see  again  the  lost  Yangtze  Kiang  of  his  glowing 
romance. 

Doane  went  to  him;  aware,  then,  of  the  paper 
rolled  so  tightly  in  his  hand,  said — a  huge  figure, 
towering  over  the  boy,  his  face  sad  and  more  than 
ever  deeply  lined,  but  with  a  grave  kindliness  about 
the  eyes : 

"My  boy,  it  is  important  that  you  and  I  have  a 
talk.  Suppose  we  sit  down."  He  indicated  the 
steamer  chair;  but  Rocky  insisted  that  he  take  it,  him- 
self dropping  heavily  down  on  the  step  of  the  deck. 

"How — how  is  she  standing  it?"  he  asked,  his 
troubled  eyes  searching  that  strong  face  before  him. 

"As  well  as  we  could  ask.  It  is  bound  to  be  very 
hard  for  her — especially  during  these  next  few  days. 
But  she  has  courage.  And  she  knows  he  would  wish 
her  not  to  mourn....  A  matter  has  come  up  that 
concerns  you,  Rocky" — it  was  the  first  time  he  had 


HIS  EXCELLENCY   SPEAKS  311 

used  that  familiar  name ;  the  boy's  moody  eyes  bright- 
ened momentarily,  and  a  touch  of  color  rose  in  his 
cheeks — "and  I  don't  feel  I  can  delay  telling  you  about 
it.  First,  you  had  better  let  me  read  you  this." 

He  had  not  thought,  before  this  moment,  of  the 
necessity  that  he  himself  make  the  translation  for  the 
boy.  It  had  to  be  difficult ;  he  would  have  given  much 
if  the  thing  could  have  been  managed  in  some  less 
directly  personal  way;  but  for  that  matter,  difficulties 
lay  so  thickly  about  him  now  that  there  was  no  good  in 
so  much  as  giving  them  a  thought.  And  so — deliber- 
ately, with  great  care  to  find  the  nearly  precise  English 
equivalent  of  every  obscure  phrase — he  read  the  letter 
through. 

He  dared  not  look  at  the  boy's  face,  but  could  not 
but  become  aware  of  the  hands  that  twitched,  clasping 
and  unclasping,  in  his  lap,  and  of  the  feet  that  at 
times  nervously  tapped  the  deck.  When  the  task 
was  done  he  quietly  folded  the  paper  and  slipped  it 
into  a  pocket. 

The  silence  grew  long  and  trying.  Doane  searched 
and  searched  his  own  still  confused  mind  for  the 
right,  the  clear  word ;  but  could  not,  during  these  earlier 
moments,  find  it.  The  boy,  plainly,  was  crushed;  but 
behind  the  clouded  eyes  and  the  knit  brows  an  emo- 
tional storm  was  gathering.  Doane  felt  that.  It  had 
to  come,  of  course.  And  it  would  have  to  be  handled. 

But  the  first  words  were  almost  calm. 

"So  that"— -thus  the  brooding  youth— "so  that's 
how  it  is !" 


312  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

Doane  waited.    After  a  little  the  boy  sprang  up. 

"But  in  God's  name,  why  didn't  you  tell  me!"  he 
cried.  "You've  let  me  come  and  talk  to  you !  You — 
This  isn't  fair!  You've  made  a  fool  of  me!  You — " 

Doane  rose  too.  They  stood  side  by  side  among 
the  heavily  scented  blossoms.  Doane  felt  moved  to 
put  a  kindly  hand  on  the  slender  shoulder  beside  him ; 
but  a  following  thought  cautioned  him  that  even  a 
touch  would  be  resented  at  this  moment. 

"I  didn't  tell  you,"  he  said,  "because  until  I  read 
this  paper  I  didn't  know." 

"But  you  must  have  known !  You  told — him.  Told 
him  you  loved  her!  Probably  you've  been  telling  her, 
too — here  under  my  eyes.  Oh,  God,  what  a  fool  I've 
been. . .  .If  you'd  only  been  square  with  me!" 

"This  is  not  fair,"  said  Doane,  still  very  quiet. 
"We  must  talk  this  out,  but  not  now — not  while  you 
are  angry." 

"Angry!  What  in  heaven's  name  is  the  sense  of 
talking  it  out!  It's  settled,  isn't  it?" 

"I'm  not  sure." 

"That's  not  so!"  The  boy  seemed  to  be  recover- 
ing somewhat  now  from  the  first  shock  of  unreason. 
He  turned  away  J.D  hide  the  tears  in  his  eyes.  "You've 
admitted  to  her  father,  if  not  to  her,  that  you  love 
her. . . .  Oh,  why  didn't  I  see  it!  Why  did  I  have  to 
be  such  an  awful  fool!. . . .  She  knows  it  now.  And 
you  know  as  well  as  I  what  she'll  do.  She'll  never  go 
against  her  father's  last  wish — never.  You  know 
that!" 


"I  recognize  that  she  must  be  seeing  it  in  that 
light  now,  but — " 

"Oh,  what's  the  use  of  talk.  You  know!  For  God's 
sake,  let  me  alone,  can't  you !" 

Doane's  brows  drew  slowly  together;  but  this  and 
a  note  of  something  near  command  in  his  voice,  were 
the  only  outward  indications  of  the  storm  within  his 
breast. 

"This  is  not  a  time  for  either  you  or  me  to  be 
thinking  of  ourselves.  You  may  be  sure  that  Hui  Fei 
will  not  be  thinking  so.  And  it  may  help  you  to 
realize  that  this  situation  is  difficult  for  me,  as  it  is 
for  you.  It  is  true  that  Hui  Fei's  only  thought,  now, 
under  the  stress  of  this  sorrow^  will  be  to  submit  to 
her  father's  every  wish.  But  this  stress  will  pass. 
There  is  only  one  course  to  take — " 

"But—" 

"Listen  to  me!  And  try  to  meet  the  thing  like  a 
man.  We  will  wait  until  this  sad  business  is  over. 
We  will  at  least  try  to  give  up  thinking  of  ourselves. 
I  will  see  that  Hui  Fei  and  her  sister  are  cared  for  by 
friends." 

"But  all  the  time  you'll  be  seeing  her,  and — " 

"I  must  still  ask  you  to  listen  and  try  to  think 
clearly.  As  soon  as  it  seems  wise  I  will  lay  the  situa- 
tion before  Hui  Fei.  I  will  try  to  persuade  her  that 
her  own  life  is,  in  the  last  analysis,  more  important 
than  even  her  father's  dying  wish.  I  believe  that  she 
— would — be  happier  with  a  young  man  like  yourself 
than  with  an — older  man.  It  is  possible  that  she  can 


314  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

be  led  to  see  that  her  own  happiness  must  be  a  factor 
in  her  choice.  Have  you  the  patience  and  the  courage 
to  wait  for  that?" 

He  extended  his  hand.  The  boy  looked  at  it,  then 
up 'at  the  stern  but  still  kindly  face;  hesitated;  then, 
with  a  quivering  of  the  lip  and  an  explosive — "Oh 
God!" — rushed  away;  walked  very  fast,  almost  ran, 
the  length  of  the  deck;  made  his  way  through  the 
crowded  waist  and  around  the  cook's  well;  and  stood, 
his  bare  head  thrown  proudly  back,  in  the  prow, 
beside  the  quietly  wondering  tcd-kung,  staring  toward 
the  long  curving  sweep  of  the  tree-shaded  bund  of 
Shanghai  as  it  came  gradually  into  view  around  the 
bend  just  below  the  city. 


CHAPTER  XIV 


"T'HE  yellow  junk  was  now  abreast  the  landing  hulks 
of  the  great  international  shipping  companies  just 
below  the  city.  Rocky  left  the  bow  and  made  his  way 
to  the  after  cabins  without  once  lifting  his  somber 
gaze  to  the  silent  figures  on  the  poop.  Slowly — his 
eyes  wild,  his  thoughts  beyond  control,  bitterness  in 
his  heart — he  moved  along  the  dim  corridor. 

A  puff  of  wind  found  its  way  through  an  open 
window;  a  blue  curtain  swung  out,  discovering, 
through  a  doorway,  Miss  Carmichael,  seated  in  a 
chair  beneath  the  window.  It  was  lighter  in  her 
cabin.  She  had  laid  aside  the  familiar  middy  blouse 
and  skirt,  and  appeared  to  be  sewing  something  on  her 
petticoat.  For  an  instant  she  looked  up,  her  eyes 
meeting  those  of  the  pale  youth  who  stood  motionless 
in  the  corridor.  The  curtain  swung  back  then;  but 
as  it  swung  the  youth  stepped  through  the  doorway 
and  stood  within  the  room. 

"I  don't  know  that  I  asked  you  in,"  said  she  coolly. 

His  eyes  were  intent  on  the  amazing,  glistening 
strings  of  pearls  that  were  looped  everywhere  about 
her  clothing. 

315 


3i6  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

Through  narrowed  lids  she  watched  him,  sitting 
very  still,  needle  poised  just  as  she  had  drawn  it 
through.  On  his  young  face  was  an  expression  of  firm 
decision  that  she  had  not  before  seen  there.  He  looked 
oddly,  now,  like  his  father.  There  was,  apparently,  a 
trace  of  the  Kane  iron  in  him.  The  situation  was  of 
wholly  accidental  origin;  he  couldn't  have  planned  it; 
his  first  expression,  out  in  the  corridor,  had  been  of 
startled  surprise ;  the  decision  to  step  within  must  have 
been  instant;  yet  now,  suddenly,  he  meant  business. 
She  caught  all  that. . . .  Here,  after  all,  was  a  young 
man  who  presented  difficulties. 

"Take  off  those  pearls,"  said  he  quietly. 

"You  are  in  my  room,"  said  she  as  quietly. 

"I  shall  take  the  pearls  when  I  go." 

"You'll  have  my  life  to  answer  for." 

"Your  life  is  nothing  to  me." 

"Your  own  life  is." 

"Never  mind  about  that." 

"I've  warned  you  fairly." 

"Stand  up." 

"You  propose  to  take  them  from  me  by  force?" 

"Yes.    Unless  you  choose  to  give  them  to  me." 

"And  you  expect  me  to  trust  you  with  them." 

"Yes." 

There  was  a  silence. 

"Of  course  you  are  stronger  than  I,"  she  observed 
musingly. 

He  offered  no  reply  to  this. 

Her  thin  mouth  curved  into  the  faint  smile  that 


THE  WORLD  OF  FACT  317 

was  as  cold  as  her  calculating  brain.  "So" — said  she 
— "we're  enemies,  then  ?" 

This  evidently  did  not  interest  him. 

"I  think,"  she  went  on,  quietly  desperate,  "that  I'll 
try  crying  and  screaming.  I'm  something  of  an 
actress." 

"Scream  your  head  off/'  said  he,  the  slang  phrase 
sounding  almost  courteous  in  this  new  quiet  voice  of 
his. 

"There's  not  a  person — alive — that  could  prove 
these  pearls  aren't  my  own."  Her  voice  dwelt  on  that 
one  telling  word,  "alive,"  with  an  almost  caressing  note 
of  satisfaction. 

He  shook  his  head  with  a  touch  of  impatience. 
And  she  was  studying  him,  her  quick  thoughts  darting 
sharply  about — darting  in  every  conceivable  direction 
— for  an  avenue  of  escape.  She  knew,  however,  as  the 
moments  passed  and  the  pale  youth  stood  his  ground 
that  there  was  only  one.  She  had  supposed  him  weak. 
It  hardly  seemed  that  her  judgment  could  have  gone 
so  far  wrong. 

"You're  cruel  to  me,"  she  said  softly. 

"Stand  up." 

Now  she  obeyed.     He  drew  near. 

"I  didn't  think  you'd  turn  out  this  sort,  Rocky. 
You  liked  me  at  first."  She  moved  a  hand,  hesitat- 
ingly, within  reach  of  his  own.  But  he  ignored  it. 
"Aren't  we  going  to  see  each  other  at  Shanghai  ?  Are 
you  just  going  to  be  brutal  with  me — like  this  ? . . . . 
I'd  like  to  see  you." 


318  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

"Will  you  take  them  off,"  said  he,  "or  must  I?" 

She  turned  to  him,  with  curiously  mixed  passions 
coming  to  life  in  her  face. 

"Oh,  my  God,  Rocky!"  she  cried  very  low, 
"haven't  you  any  human  feelings  ?  Can  you  just  come 
m  here — into  my  own  room — and  rob  me,  without  a 

decent  word? Haven't  I  played  fair  with  you? 

Haven't  I  kept  out  of  your  way  ?  Haven't  I  ? " 

She  moved  close  against  him,  slid  her  sensitively  thin 
hands  over  his  shoulders;  looked  straight  up  into  his 
eyes,  almost  honestly.  "Rocky,  don't  tell  me  you're 
this  kind !"....  She  was  clinging  to  him  now. 

He  caught  her  hands,  and,  without  roughness  but 
with  his  young  strength,  removed  them.  She  let  them 
fall  at  her  side. 

"I'm  not  going  to  wait  much  longer  on  you,"  he 
said. 

"You're  hard  as  nails,  Rocky."  Her  underlip  was 
quivering;  her  pale  eyes  were  a  little  darker,  and 
seemed  full  of  feeling.  She  turned  suddenly  to  the 
rough  bed,  and  reached  under  the  cover  for  her  shop- 
ping bag.  Hiding  it  from  him  with  her  body,  she 
opened  it  and  took  out  the  triangular  bottle;  then  lin- 
gered an  instant  to  look  at  the  clasps  of  the  pearl  cape 
that  were  set  with  large,  perfectly  cut  diamonds. 
There  were  five  of  the  clasps,  and  perhaps  fifty  of  the 
sparkling,  glittering  stones.  In  value  they  would  vary 
somewhat;  but  in  themselves,  even  without  the  pearls, 
they  represented  a  fortune.  She  quietly  closed  the  bag 
and  replaced  it  under  the  covers. 


THE  WORLD  OF  FACT  319 

With  the  rough-edged  little  bottle  in  her  hand  she 
faced  him. 

"I  knew  a  girl,"  she  said,  with  a  far-away  look 
in  her  eyes,  "who  took  five  of  these  tablets  and  then 
lived  two  days.  She  suffered  terribly,  of. ..." 

He  caught  the  bottle  from  her  hand  and  threw  it 
against  the  wall,  where  it  broke.  The  green  pills 
rolled  about  the  floor. 

"Oh,  well,"  she  remarked — "I  can  take  them  after 
you've  gone." 

"After  I've  gone  you  can  do  as  you  think  best." 

"But  something  will  have  to  be  done  about  me, 
Rocky.  You'll  have  to  get  me  ashore.  And  see  about 
burying  me ....  And  you'll  have  to  explain  me." 

This  moved  him  not  at  all.  Apparently  he  was  to 
be  one  of  the  Kanes — strong,  pitiless,  destined  for  suc- 
cess and  power.  There  would  be  weak  moments;  but 
all  that  her  uncannily  shrewd  eyes  saw  in  him.  For 
that  matter,  Miss  Carmichael  had  known  many  men 
of  the  sort  that  in  America  are  termed  "big" — certain 
of  them  with  an  unpleasant  secret  intimacy — and  each 
had  possessed  and  (at  moments)  been  possessed  by 
strong  passions.  It  had  never  been  wholly  a  matter  of 
what  is  called  brain;  always  there  had  been  emotional 
force,  with  a  dark  side  as  well  as  a  bright. 

Overhead  the  great  clumsy  sails  creaked.  Soft 
feet  pattered  about  the  deck.  The  nasal  voices  of  the 
crew  broke  into  a  chantey.  A  chain  rattled. 

"We  must  be  there,"  said  she.  "We're  anchoring, 
I  think."  And  she  glanced  out  the  window  at  one 


320  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

of  the  roofed-over  opium  bulks  that  lay  in  those  days 
directly  opposite  the  bund.  Finally  she  looked  again 
at  him. 

"Very  well,"  she  said  then;  and  raised  her  arms 
above  her  head.  Swiftly,  at  once,  he  began  stripping 
off  the  festoons  of  pearls.  The  only  other  thing  said 
was  her  remark,  in  a  casual  tone:  "It's  understood 
that  you're  using  force.  And  you'll  hear  from  it,  of 
course." 

As  soon  as  he  had  gone  she  slipped  into  her  blouse 
and  skirt.  Once  again  she  looked  thoughtfully  at  the 
radiant  gems  that  were  left  to  her;  then  went,  coolly 
swinging  the  little  bag,  up  on  deck,  where  certain 
of  the  crew  were  already  drawing  around  to  the  ladder 
at  the  side  the  sampan  that  had  been  towing  astern. 

Rocky  had  gone  directly,  on  tiptoe,  to  Doane's 
cabin.  The  huge  sad-faced  man  was  there;  quick, 
however,  with  a  kindly  smile. 

Rocky  said — "I  beg  your  pardon,  sir?" — stiffly, 
not  unlike  a  proud  young  Briton — and  from  a  tied-up 
handkerchief  and  bulging  pockets — even  from  his  shirt 
above  his  tightly  drawn  belt — produced  enormous 
quantities  of  perfectly  matched  large  pearls ;  laid  them 
on  the  bed  in  a  heap;  helped  Mr.  Doane  make  a  bundle 
of  them  in  a  square  of  blue  cloth. 

"They  are  yours,  sir,"  he  explained. 

He  withdrew  then,  with  a  coldness  of  manner  that 
to  the  older  man  was  moving;  and  went  out  on  deck 
to  await  his  turn  in  the  sampan. 


THE  WORLD  OF  FACT  321 


Doane  found  a  temporary  home  for  Hui  Fei  and 
her  sister  at  the  mission  compound  of  his  friend,  Doc- 
tor Henry  Withery,  in  the  Chinese  city;  himself 
lodging  with  other  friends.  Rocky  went  to  the  Astor 
House,  across  Soochow  Creek,  which  was  still,  in  1911, 
a  famous  stopping  place  for  the  tourists,  diplomats, 
military  and  commercial  men.,  and  all  the  other  more 
prosperous  among  the  white  travelers  that  pour  into 
Shanghai  from  everywhere  else  in  the  world  by  the 
great  ships  that  plow  unceasingly  the  Pacific  and 
Indian  Oceans  and  the  Yellow  and  China  Seas ;  to  pour 
out  again  (in  peaceful  times)  from  Shanghai  by  rail 
and  by  lesser  craft  of  the  river  and  the  coast  to  Hong 
Kong  and  Manila  to  Hankow,  to  Tientsin  and  Peking, 
to  Nagasaki,  Kobe,  Yokohoma  and  Tokio....and 
Shanghai  had  never  been  so  crowded  as  now,  with  its 
thousands  of  travelers  detained,  awaiting  news  from 
this  or  that  revolutionary  center;  with  the  American 
Marines  and  the  British  and  German  sailors;  with 
Manchu  refugees  swarming  into  the  foreign  settle- 
ments ;  with  revolutionists,  queueless,  wearing  unaccus- 
tomed European  dress,  parading  everywhere. 

Doane  found  time  to  call  at  the  hotel  and  leave 
word  regarding  the  burial  of  his  excellency;  but  was 
not  to  know  that  Rocky,  himself,  immured  in  his  room, 
gave  the  word  that  he  was  out  and  there  awaited 
the  friendly  chit  that  Doane  sent  up  by  the  blue-robed 
servant.  Nor  was  he  to  know  that  the  boy  dressed 


322  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

carefully  for  the  ceremony,  only  to  find  the  ordeal  too 
great  for  his  overstrung  emotions.  It  was  as  an  after- 
thought, a  day  or  two  later  that  Doane  sent  him  Hui 
Fei's  address. 

It  was  after  this  sad  experience  that  Doane,  in 
accordance  with  his  promise  to  the  late  Sun  Shi-pi, 
called  on  Doctor  Wu  Ting  Fang  and  offered  his 
services  to  the  revolutionary  party.  Another  day 
and  he  was  hard  at  work,  bending  his  strong, 
finely  trained  and  experienced  mind  to  the  great 
task  of  presenting  the  dreams  and  the  activities  of 
Young  China  fairly  and  sympathetically  to  the  press 
and  the  governments  of  the  Western  World ....  And 
so  Griggsby  Doane,  concealing — at  moments  almost 
from  his  own  inner  eye — the  ache  in  his  heart,  the 
unutterable  loneliness  of  his  solitary  existence,  found 
himself  once  more  fitting  into  the  scheme  of  organized 
human  life.  A  grave  man,  with  sad  eyes  but  with  a 
slow  kindly  smile,  always  courteously  attentive  to  the 
person  and  problem  of  the  moment,  thinking  always 
clearly  and  objectively  out  of  a  comprehensively  toler- 
ant background  that  seemed  to  include  all  nations  and 
all  men;  a  gently  tactful  man;  a  tireless,  powerful 
figure  of  a  man,  who  could  work  twenty  hours  on  end 
without  a  trace  of  fatigue,  going  through  masses  of 
minor  detail  without  for  a  moment  losing  his  broad 
view  of  the  major  problems — such  was  the  Griggsby 
Doane  one  saw  at  revolutionary  headquarters  during 
that  late  autumn  of  1911 . . .  .Life  had  caught  him  up. 
Whatever  his  private  sorrow,  the  world  needed  him 


THE  WORLD  OF  FACT  323 

now.  Rapidly,  in  all  that  confusion,  he  was  formulat- 
ing policies,  helping  to  direct  the  current  of  one  stream 
of  destiny.  In  past  years  Griggsby  Doane  had  been 
discussed  and  forgotten.  He  had  even  been  laughed 
at  as  an  unfrocked  missionary  by  ribald,  dominant,  not 
infrequently  drunken  whites  along  the  coast.  It 
occurred  to  no  one  to  laugh  at  him  now. 

These  were  the  days  when  in  half  the  provincial 
capitals  of  China  the  Manchus  that  had  ruled  during 
nearly  three  centuries  were  hunted  to  their  death,  men 
and  women  alike,  like  vermin.  Bloody  heads  decor- 
ated the  lamp  posts  that  had  been  erected  in  the  West- 
ern fashion  beside  freshly  macadamized  streets. 
Slaughter,  as  in  other  dramatic  moments  in  Oriental 
history,  had  become  a  pastime.  Palaces  and  wealthy 
homes  in  a  hundred  cities  were  looted  and  burned,  and 
a  vast  new  traffic  started  up  in  the  silks  and  paintings 
and  pottery  and  objects  of  art  suddenly  thrown  into 
the  market. . . .  Hankow  had  been  taken  by  the 
imperial  troops,  but  was  to  be  recaptured  as  a  charred, 
gutted  ruin.  General  Li  Yuan-hung  was  now  "presi- 
dent of  the  Republic  of  China,"  up  at  Wu  Chang,  by 
right  of  military  organization  and  popular  acclaim. 
Admiral  Sah,  of  the  Imperial  Navy,  was  about  to  wit- 
ness the  unanimous  mutiny  of  his  fleet.  The  great 
Yuan  Shi-K'ai,  himself  a  Chinese  born,  was  in  com- 
mand of  the  imperial  troops  while  negotiating  on 
either  hand  with  the  frantic  throne  and  the  upsurging 
revolutionists.  At  Peking  heads  were  falling  and 
great  princes  were  fleeing  or  hiding  pitifully  within 


324  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

the  walls  of  the  legations ....  Within  a  few  weeks 
Sun  Yat  Sen  was  to  leave  London  on  his  long  journey 
eastward  by  way  of  Suez  and  Singapore,  but  without 
the  enormous  golden  treasure  so  confidently  expected 
by  the  revolutionists.  Before  his  arrival,  even,  he  was 
to  be  elected  president  of  the  new  China,  in  the  recently 
captured  Nanking — where  a  National  Assembly  in 
cropped  heads  and  frock  coats  already  would  be 
grinding  out  fresh  tangles  of  legislation ....  The 
event  was  outrunning  the  mental  capacity  of  man. 
What  was  now  tragic  confusion  would  grow  through 
the  swift-following  years  into  tragic  chaos,  as  the  most 
numerous  and  most  nearly  inert  of  peoples  struggled 
out  of  the  sluggish  habit  of  centuries  toward  the  dubi- 
ous light  of  modernity. 

But  through  the  chaos  Griggsby  Doane  was  never 
for  a  moment  to  lose  the  new  vision  that  had  finally 
cleared  his  long  troubled  mind.  Behind  the  crumbling 
of  the  empire,  underlying  the  torn  and  bleeding  sur- 
face of  Chinese  life,  lay  a  tradition  finer,  he  was  to 
believe  until  his  dying  day,  than  any  so  far  developed 
in  the  truculent  West — a  delicate  responsiveness  to 
beauty  in  nature  and  art,  a  reflective  quality,  an  instinct 
for  peace — it  was  all  these  at  once,  and  more ;  a  blend 
of  art  in  living  and  living  in  art;  a  finish  that  was 
exquisite  in  concept,  a  sensitiveness  that  lifted  the  soul 
of  man  above  the  ugly  fact  Even  the  brittle  perfec- 
tion of  Chinese  etiquette — regulating  every  passing 
human  contact,  clothing  in  silken  manner  the  naked 
thought — was  like  a  fine  lacquer  over  the  knotted  wood 


THE  WORLD  OF  FACT  325 

of  life....  America,  he  felt,  with  all  its  earnestly 
insistent  young  virtues,  worshiped  the  fact.  To  the 
Americans  must  be  preached  the  gospel  of  sensitive 
thought,  of  reflective  enjoyment  of  the  beautiful. 
Those  old  master  painters  of  Tang  and  Sung  breathed 
beauty;  it  was  sweet  air  in  their  lungs;  whereas  in 
America  beauty  was  too  often  like  a  garment  to  be 
bought  in  a  shop  and  worn  for  show. . . .  Yes,  this 
revolutionary  work  was  a  gratifying  opportunity  for 
service,  of  great  momentary  importance  because  the 
Chinese  people  must  be  rescued  from  Manchu  con- 
querors and  their  eunuchs,  from  disease  and  famine, 
and  from  ignorance  of  the  new  world  that  had  come 
amazingly,  brutally,  into  being  while  the  old  Middle 
Kingdom  slumbered;  but  it  was  not  the  main  work. 
The  aggressively  greedy  West,  now,  with  its  mer- 
chants and  war-ships  and  armies,  was  destroying  the 
soul  of  China  even  while  teaching  her  a  smattering  of 
the  materialistic  new  faith.  There  must  be  a  counter- 
influence;  as  the  East  now  so  strongly  felt  the  West, 
so  must  be  the  West  made  sensitively  aware  of  the 
East.  It  was  fair  give  and  take.  It  might  yet  help 
the  world  to  find  a  stable  balance ....  This  was  what 
the  difficult  life  of  Griggsby  Doane  was  coming  to 
mean.  The  East  had  crept  into  his  heart.  So  he  must 
turn  back  to  the  West. 

3 

For  three  days  Mr.  Doane's  brief  chit — with  the 
address  of  Hui  Fei  in  the  native  citjr — burned  in  Rocky 


326  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

Kane's  pocket;  then,  early  in  the  third  afternoon,  he 
went  down  to  the  Japanese  steamship  offices  (for  the 
keen  little  brown  people  had  already  captured  the 
Pacific  traffic  from  the  Americans)  and  bought  the 
second  officer's  room  on  a  crowded  liner  leaving  at 

the  end  of  the  week  for  San  Francisco On  the 

fourth  afternoon  he  called  a  rickshaw  and  rode  out 
beyond  the  American  post-office  to  the  address  the 
older  man  had  given  him. 

But  Mr.  Doane,  it  appeared,  was  not  in ;  already  he 
was  established  at  Doctor  Wu's  revolutionary  head- 
quarters. Rocky  considered  driving  there;  even  took 
the  address  and  rode  part  of  the  way ;  but  reconsidered, 
returned  to  the  hotel,  and  sent  a  messenger  to  Hui  Fei 
with  this  chit: 

"I'm  sailing  Saturday.  Do  you  feel  that  you  could 
see  me  for  a  few  moments?" 

The  reply,  within  the  hour,  bade  him  come.  He 
found  her  in  Western  dress — a  tailored  suit,  very  sim- 
ple; her  glistening  black  hair  parted  smoothly — as  he 
would  always  most  vividly  remember  it — gently  sad 
in  manner,  yet  able  to  smile.  She  would  be  like  that, 
come  to  think  of  it;  not  crushed  by  the  tragedy,  not 
sunken  in  the  grief  that,  among  Westerners,  is  so  often 
a  sort  of  histrionic  egotism ....  They  sat  in  a  tiled 
courtyard  among  dahlias.  More  than  ever  like  a 
proud  young  Briton  was  Rocky. 

"It  is  good  of  you  to  see  me."  Thus  he  began 

"I  couldn't  go  without  a  word." 

\ 


THE  WORLD  OF  FACT  327 

She  murmured  then :  "Of  course  not." 
"I  want  you  to  know,  too,  that  I  am  coming  to 
see" — he  had  to  pause;  in  this  new  phase  of  sober 
young  manhood  he  had  not  yet  achieved  steady  self- 
control. 

She  broke  the  silence  with  a  question  about  the 
revolution.  It  is  to  his  credit  that  he  talked,  stumbling 
only  at  first,  clearly.  And  as  the  strain  of  the  meeting 
gradually  relaxed,  he  became  aware  of  her  sobered  but 
still  intense  absorption  in  the  struggle;  aware,  too, 
increasingly,  of  her  strong  gift  of  what  is  called  per- 
sonality. Her  mind  was  quick,  bright,  eager — better, 
it  seemed  (he  had  to  fight  bitterness  here)  than  his 
own.  And  she  was  impersonal  to  a  degree  that  he 
couldn't  yet  attain — couldn't,  in  fact,  quite  understand. 
He  had  to  speak  slowly  and  carefully;  feeling  his  way 
with  a  dogged  determination  among  uprushing  emo- 
tions, moved  as  never  before  by  the  charm  of  appear- 
ance and  manner  and  speech  of  which  she  was  so 
prettily  unconscious.  —  He  had  come — perhaps  with 
more  than  a  touch  in  him  of  (again)  that  Western 
histrionism,  the  intense  overstressing  of  the  individual 
and  his  feelings — as  a  man  who  was  effacing  himself 
that  the  woman  he  loved  might  be  happy  with  another 
man.  Confused  with  this  wholly  unconscious  call 
upon  the  sympathies,  undoubtedly,  was-  an  unphrased 
incredulity  that  she — so  strongly  a  person,  fine  and 
courageous  and  outstanding  as  he  knew  her  to  be — 
could  accept  this  being  almost  casually  left  as  part  of 
a  legacy  to  that  other  man.  It  was  incredible.  Unless 


328  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

she  loved  the  other  man ....  So  he  came  around 
again  to  the  personal ;  unaware,  of  course,  that  he  was 
feeling  inevitably  with  his  strongly  individualistic  race. 
Even  when  she  dwelt  on  race,  a  little  later  in  their  talk, 
he  found  no  light.  He  couldn't  have ;  for  the  Ameri- 
can seldom  can  see  what  lies  outside  himself. 

"I  don'  know  yet  what  I  can  do,"  she  was  saying, 
very  honestly  and  simply  (they  hadn't  yet  mentioned 
Mr.  Doane).  "Of  course  I'm  a  Manchu,  after  all.  An' 
blood  does  coun'.  I  feel  that.  A  good  many  people 
to-day  talk  differen'ly,  I  know.  We  saw  a  good  'eal 
of  Socialism  at  college.  The  idealists  to-day — the 
Jews  an'  Russians  an'  even  some  of  our  Chinese  stud- 
ents— the  younger  men — talk  as  if  race  doesn'  matter. 
But  of  course  it  does.  It  will  ta'  thousan's  of  years, 
I  suppose,  to  bring  the  races  together.  An'  maybe  it's 
impossible.  Maybe  it  can'  be  done  at  all.  I  think  tha's 
the  tragedy  of  so  much  of  this  beautiful  dreaming. . . . 
An'  here  you  see  I'm  a  Manchu,  an'  yet  I  wan'  the 
Manchus  put  out  of  China.  .  Because  they  won'  let 
China  grow.  An'  China  mus'  grow,  or  die." 

He  was  moodily  watching  her;  head  bowed  a  lit- 
tle, gazing  out  under  knit  brows.  "Do  you  know," 
he  said,  "it's  a  queer  thing  to  say,  of  course,  but  some- 
times you  make  me  feel  terribly  young." 

She  smiled  faintly.  "You  are — rather  young, 
Rocky." 

He  closed  his  eyes  and  compressed  his  lips;  his 
name,  on  her  lips,  was  dangerously  thrilling  music 
to  him.  After  a  moment  he  went  doggedly  on. 


THE  WORLD  OF  FACT  329 

"The  crowds  I've  gone  with  at  home  haven't  talked 
about  these  things.  They  wouldn't  think  it  good 
form." 

"I  know,"  said  she.     "They  woul'n'." 

"I'm  beginning  to  wonder  if  we're — well,  intel- 
ligent, exactly.  You  know — just  motors  and  horses 
and  girls  and  bridge  and  'killings'  in  Wall  Street." 

"Killings?"     Her  brows  were  lifted. 

"Oh — picking  up  a  lot  of  money,  quick." 

"That,"  she  mused,  "is  what  I  sometimes  worry 
about.  You  know,  I  love  America.  I  have  foun'  hap- 
piness there.  I  love  the  books  an'  the  colleges  and  the 
freedom  an'  all  the  goo'  times.  But  it  is  true,  I  think 
— money  is  God  in  America.  Pipple  don'  like  to  have 
you  say  it,  of  course.  But  I'm  afraid  it  is  true.  Ever'- 
thing  has  to  come  to  money — the  gover'men',  the 
churches,  ever'thing.  I  have  seen  that.  That  is  the 
hard  side  of  America.  I  don'  like  that  so  well." 

Finally — coming  down,  helplessly,  on  the  personal, 
yet  with  a  courageous  light  in  his  eyes — he  said:  "I 
do  want  you  to  know  this — Hui.  You  won't  mind 
my  speaking  of  my  love  for  you — " 

Her  hand  moved  a  very  little  way  upward. 

"Please!  I  can't  help  that.  It's  my  life  now.  I'm 
full  of  you.  And  it  has  changed  me.  I'm — I'm  going 
back.  .  .  .I'm  going  at  things  differently.  I  want  you 
to  know  that.  Because  if  I  hadn't  met  you  it  couldn't 
possibly  have  happened.  And  if  I  hadn't — well, 
learned  what  it  means  to  love  a  wonderful  girl  like 


330  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

you.  I  want  you  to  know  how  big  the  change  is  that 
you've  made." 

"Rocky/'  she  said  gently — "will  you  do  something 
for  me?"  He  waited..,.  ."I  wan'  you  to  go  back  to 
college." 

"I've  already  made  up  my  mind  to  that,"  he  replied, 
more  quietly.  "It's  the  job  for  me  now.  It's  the  next 
thing." 

"I'm  glad,"  said  she.  "An'  I'd  love  it  if  you'd 
write  to  me  sometimes," 

He  inclined  his  head. 

Then,  for  a  moment,  his  old  turbulent  inner  self 
unexpectedly  (even  to  himself),  lifted  its  head. 

"I  tried  to  see  Mr.  Doane — that  is,  I  thought  per- 
haps I  ought  to  tell  him  that  I  was  coming  out  here .  . " 

She  seemed  slightly  puzzled  at  this.  Her  lips 
framed  questioningly  the  words:  "Tell  him?" 

"I — I  perhaps  can't  say  much — but  I'm  sure  you 
and  he  will  be  happy.  I — oh,  he's  a  big  man.  He's 
terribly  busy  now,  of  course — you  know  what  he's 
doing — at  Wu  Ting  Fang's  headquarters?" 

She  inclined  her  head  rather  wearily,  saying:  "He 
wrote  me  a  ver'  kin'  note — jus'  to  say  that  he  was 
busy." 

"They  talk  about  him  some  at  the  hotel.  All  of  a 
sudden  he  seems  to  be  a  power  here." 

She  went  without  a  further  word  into  the  house, 
returning  with  a  slip  of  paper.  Into  her  manner  had 
crept  at  the  mention  of  Doane's  name,  a  gentler,  more 
wistful  quality  that  she  seemed  not  to  think  of  con- 


THE  WORLD  OF  FACT  331 

cealing1;  it  was  even  a  confiding  quality,  intimately 
friendly. 

"I  don'  quite  understand  it,"  she  said.  "A  gen'le- 
jman  called  from  the  Hong  Kong  Bank  an'  lef  this." 

Rocky  read  the  paper;  a  receipt  for  a  sealed  parcel 
of  pearls  and  for  other  separate  jewels  and  a  sum  of 
money. 

"Oh — he  put  it  all  there  in  your  name,"  said  he, 
while  a  sudden  new  hope  rose  into  his  drying  throat 
and  throbbed  in  his  temples. 

"Yes.     It  puzzle'  me— a  little." 

He  turned  the  paper  over  and  over  in  his  fingers, 
once  again  struggling  to  think. .,.  .She  sat  motionless, 
gazing  at  the  dahlias. 

Blindly  then  he  groped  for  her  hands ;  found  them 
and  impulsively  gripped  them. 

"Hui" — he  whispered  huskily — ("tell  me — if  it's 
like  this — if  you — if  he. .,.  .All  this  time  I've  supposed 
you  and  he  were ....  I  want  you  to  come  with  me  to 
America.  We  both  do  love  it  there.  I'll  give  up  my 
life  to  making  you  happy.  I'll  slave  for  you.  I'll 
make  of  my  life  what  you  say.  Just  let  us  try  it 
together . . . . " 

She  silently  heard  him  out — through  this  and  much 
more,  leaving  her  hands  quietly  in  his.  Finally  then, 
when  the  emotional  gust  seemed  in  some  measure  to 
have  spent  itself,  she  said,  gently: 

"Rocky,  I  wan'  you  to  listen  to  what  I'm  going  to 
tell  you.  You  said  I  make  you  feel  young.  Well — 


332  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

can'  you  see  why?  Can'  you  see  that  I'm  quite  an  ol* 
lady?" 

"But  that's  nonsense!  You — "  His  eyes  were 
feasting  on  her  soft  skin  and  on  the  exquisite  curve  of 
her  cheek. 

"No — you  mus'  listen !  First  tell  me  how  old  you 
are." 

Unexpectedly  on  the  defensive,  Rocky  had  to  com- 
pose himself,  arrange  his  dignity,  before  he  could 
reply.  "I  was  twenty-one  in  the  summer." 

"Ver'  good.    An'  I  was  twenty-five  in  the  spring." 

"But—" 

"Please !  I  don'  know  what  you  coul'  have  thought 
— how  young  you  thought  I  was  when  I  wen'  to  col- 
lege. But  tha's  the  way  it  is.  I'm  an  ol'  lady.  I  have 
learn'  to  like  you  ver'  much.  I'm  fond  of  you.  I  wan' 
to  feel  always  tha'  we're  frien's.  But  we  coul'n'  be 
happy  together.  Our  interes'  aren'  the  same — they 
coul'n'  be.  Can'  you  see,  Rocky?  If  there  is  some- 
thing abou'  me  tha'  stirs  you — that  is  ver'  won'erful. 
But  we  mus'n'  let  it  hurt  you.  An'  that  isn'  the  same 
as  marriage.  Marriage  is  differen' — there  mus'  be  so 
much  in  common — if  a  man  an'  woman  are  to  live 
together  an'  work  together,  they  mus'  think  an'  hope 
an'...." 

Her  voice  died  out.  She  was  gazing  again,  mourn- 
fully at  the  dahlias.  When  he  released  her  hands  they 
lay  limp  in  her  lap. 

With  a  great  effort  of  will  be  wished  her  every 
happiness,  promised  to  write,  and  got  himself  away. 


THE  WORLD  OF  FACT  333 

4 

This  was  on  Thursday.  Rocky  walked  at  a  feverish 
pace  from  the  native  city  to  the  European  settlement 
that  was  so  quaintly  not  Chinese — more,  with  its 
Western-style  buildings  that  were  decorated  with  orna- 
mental iron  balconies  and  richly  colored  Chinese  signs, 
like  a  "China-town"  in  an  American  city — and  wan- 
dered for  a  time  along  Nanking  Road ;  then  out  to  Bub- 
bling Well  Road ;  away  out,  past  the  Country  Club  to 
the  almost  absurdly  suburban  quarter  with  its  comfort- 
ably British  villas;  seeing,  however,  little  of  the  busy 
life  that  moved  about  him,  threading  his  way  over 
cross-streets  without  a  conscious  glance  at  the  motor- 
cars and  pony-drawn  victorias  (with  turbanned  mafoos 
cracking  their  whips)  and  bicycles  and  the  creaking 
passenger  wheelbarrows  on  which  fat  native  women 
with  tiny  stumps  of  feet  rode  precariously.  For  those 
few  hours  were  to  be  recalled  in  later  years  as  the 
quietly  darkest  in  the  young  man's  life.  There  was  no 
question  now  of  dissipation ;  he  knew  with  the  decisive- 
ness of  the  Kanes  that  he  had  turned  definitely  away 
from  the  morbid  oblivion  of  alcohol  and  opium,  as 
from  the  unhealthy  if  exciting  diversion  of  loveless 
women.  But  the  bitterness  would  not  down  all  at 
once.  Indeed  it  was  savagely  powerful,  still,  to  cloud 
his  reason.  The  only  evidence  of  victory  over  self  of 
which  he  was  aware  was  the  fact  that  he  could  now  look 
almost  objectively  at  himself,  and  could  fight. 

He  was  back  at  the  hotel  between  seven  and  eight, 


334  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

but  couldn't  eat.  For  an  hour  he  walked  his  room, 
locked  in.  Then,  in  sheer  loneliness,  a  little  afraid  of 
himself,  he  went  down  to  the  spacious  lounge  and  sat 
in  a  corner,  behind  a  palm,  staring  at  a  copy  of  the 
China  Press  and  listening,  all  overstrung  nerves,  to 
the  cackle  and  laughter  of  the  self-centered  tourists 
and  the  curiously  bold  and  loud  commercial  men  from 
across  the  Pacific.  He  heard  this,  in  his  younger  way, 
as  Doane  would  have  heard  it,  even  as  Hui;  it  was 
all  heedless,  light-brained;  careless. . .  .Confused  with 
the  bitterness  (in  a  bewildering  degree)  was  a  sense 
of  the  finely  reflective  atmosphere  that  had  lately  envel- 
oped him  and  that  he  was  not  to  lose  easily.  He  felt 
— sitting,  all  nerves,  in  this  babel — the  fine  old  Chinese 
gentleman  who  had  gone  serenely  to  the  death  that 
was  his  destiny.  He  felt — constantly,  intensely — the 
princess  who  had  brought  to  her  American  college  an 
instinct  for  culture  the  like  of  which  neither  he  nor  any 
of  his  friends  at  home  had  brought  or  found  there. 
And  he  felt  Mr.  Doane — felt  a  spaciousness  of  mind  in 
the  man,  a  patience,  a  tolerance — felt  him  as  a  gentle- 
man— felt  him  while  still,  in  his  heart,  he  was  bitterly 
fighting  him ....  The  thing  had  closed  over  his  head 
— the  sheer  quality  of  these  remarkable  folk.  He  was 
simply  out  of  a  cruder  world.  He  hadn't  the  right  to 
stand  with  them — the  simple  right  of  character  and 
breeding.  And  no  amount  of  determination,  no 
amount  of  storming  at  it  could  alter  the  fact.  It  would 
take  years  of  patient  work.  Even  then  he  might  miss 
it;  for  his  environment  soon  again  would  be  that  of 


THE  WORLD  OF  FACT  335 

the  cackling  tourists  he  now  hated.  Even  at  college  it 
would  be  all  the  dominant  athletics,  the  parties  and 
the  motors  and  girls  and  drinking,  the  association  with 
those  sons  of  prosperous  families  who  were  all  con- 
sciously cementing  alliances  with  the  financial  upper 
class  that  quietly  ruled  America  while  hired  politicians 
prated  and  performed  without  in  the  smallest  measure 
controlling  or  even  altering  the  blatant  facts ....  He 
and  his  kind,  at  college,  despised  the  "grind."  And 
you  had  to  be  a  grind  if  you  weren't  the  other  thing. 
Yet  Hui  Fei  had  managed  it  differently.  She  was 
neither  and  both.  It  seemed  to  be  a  difference  of 
mental  texture .... 

A  slim  girl,  richly  dressed,  with  a  sable  wrap  about 
her  shoulders  and  a  pretty  little  hat,  was  threading 
her  way  among  the  crowding  chairs  and  tables  and  the 
talkative  groups  in  the  lounge.  He  glanced  up;  then 
looked  closely.  It  was  Dixie  Carmichael.  She  stood 
before  him,  wearing  her  icy,  faintly  mocking  smile. 
He  rose. 

"How  are  you  ?"  said  she. 

He  could  only  incline  his  head  with  a  sort  of  cour- 
tesy, and  contrive  an  artificial  smile.  He  seemed  to 
have  been  dreaming,  outrageously.  Life  had  begun 
now. 

"I'm  running  down  to  Singapore,"  said  she. 
"Friends  there.  And  a  look-see  ?" 

"Oh,"  he  murmured,  "indeed."  She  looked  out- 
and-out  rich ;  and  she  was  surprisingly  pretty,  without 
a  sign  that  she  had  ever  known  danger  or  eyen  care. 


336  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

"Staying  here?"  she  asked. 

"No.     I  start  back  home  Saturday." 

"So? Well,  that'll  be  pleasant."  With  a  final 

glance  of  what  seemed  almost  like  triumph  she  sailed 
away.  And  he  knew  that  in  taking  the  pearls  he  had 
not  taken  all  from  her.  Apparently,  too,  she  meant 
him  to  know  it.  That  would  be  her  moment  of 
triumph.  And  that  was  all;  not  a  word  was  spoken 
regarding  his  violence  or  her  threats. . .  .He  saw  the 
yellow  porters  carrying  out  her  luggage  of  bright  new 
leather. 

He  resumed  his  seat;  twitched  for  a  time  with 
increasing  nervousness;  got  up  and  went  aimlessly 
over  to  the  desk;  asked  the  Malay  clerk  for  mail. 

A  smiling  little  Japanese  appeared,  rather  officious 
about  a  great  lot  of  bags  and  a  trunk  or  two  that  were 
coming  in.  He  had  a  familiar  look;  even  raised  his 
hat  and  stepped  forward  with  outstretched  hand.  It 

was  Kato And  then  Dawley  Kane  came  in — tall, 

quiet,  neatly  dressed,  his  nearly  white  mustache  newly 
cropped. 

To  his  pale  son  Dawley  Kane  said  merely — 
"Well!" — as  he  took  his  hand;  and  then  was  busy 
registering.  That  done,  he  asked:  "Had  dinner?" 

Rocky  shook  his  head.     "I  don't  care  for  any." 

Dawley  Kane's  quietly  keen  eyes  surveyed  his  son. 
"What's  the  matter?  Not  well." 

"I'm  well  enough." 

"Sit  down  with  me,  can't  you?"  And  turning  to 
the  attending  Japanese  he  said:  "You'll  excuse  me, 


THE  WORLD  OF  FACT  337 

x 

Kato.  I'll  be  dining  with  my  son.  And  tell  Mr. 
Braker,  please ....  Just  a  minute,  Rocky,  till  I  wash 
my  hands." 

They  were  shown  to  a  table  in  the  great  dining- 
room,  where  the  cackling  was  louder  than  in  the  lounge 
(they  dine  late  on  the  coast) — where  blue-gowned 
waiters  moved  softly  about  as  if  there  had  never  been 
a  revolution  and  wine  glasses  glistened  and  prettily 
bared  shoulders  gleamed  roundly  under  the  electric 
lights. 

And  Rocky,  seated  gloomily  opposite  this  powerful 
quiet  man — who  took  him  unerringly  in  of  course ;  dis- 
hearteningly,  Rocky  felt — found  himself  in  a  depres- 
sion deeper  than  any  he  had  known  before.  His 
father  was  so  strong  and  he  brought  back  with  him 
the  enveloping  atmosphere  of  the  mighty,  splendidly 
successful  white  world  in  which  they  both  belonged — 
a  world  that  crushed  the  heart  out  of  weaker  peoples 
while  it  blandly  talked  the  moralities.  He  felt  it  as  a 
Juggernaut.  It  had  the  amazingly  successful  racial 
blend  of  character  and  plausibility.  That  would  be  the 
British  quality;  and,  more  roughly  and  confusedly,  the 
American. 

"Getting  rather  interesting  up  the  river,"  remarked 
Dawley  Kane,  over  his  soup.  "How'd  you  get  down  ?" 

"On  a  junk." 

"Any  trouble?" 

"Oh— some." 

"Been  here  long?" 

"Several  days.     I'm  sailing  Saturday." 


338  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

"Sailing?"  Mr.  Kane  raised  his  eyebrows. 
"Where?" 

"Home." 

"You  decided  not  to  consult  me  ?" 

"Oh Don't  ride  me,  father!  It's  the  next  thing. 

I'm  going  back  to  college." 

"Oh — I  see."  Mr.  Kane  looked  over  the  menu, 
ordered  his  roast,  and  selected  a  red  wine,  cautioning 
the  waiter  to  set  it  near  the  stove  for  five  minutes. 
"It's  wicked  to  heat  Burgundy,"  he  said,  when  the 
waiter  had  gone,  "but  it's  the  only  way  you  can  get  it 
served  at  the  right  temperature.  I  discovered  that 
when  we  were  here  before ....  I  gather,  my  boy,  that 
you've  come  to  your  senses  in  the  matter  of  that  little 
yellow  girl." 

Rocky  did  not  wince  outwardly;  he  merely  sat  still. 
But  his  mind,  at  last,  was  active.  And  he  knew — saw 
it  in  a  flash — that  no  explanation  he  could  possibly 
make  would  be  intelligible.  You  can  not — yet — talk 
across  the  gulf  between  the  worlds.  It  was  his  first 
intelligent  glimpse  of  the  tremendous  fact  that  Doane 
had  so  long  and  so  clearly  felt  and  seen.  So  he  merely 
— at  last,  when  his  father  looked  closely  at  him — 
inclined  his  head  and  said,  huskily : 

"I'm  going  to  work  out  this  college  business. 
That's  my  job  clear  enough." 

This  new  attitude  was  to  bring,  later  in  the  even- 
ing, confidences  from  the  father. 

"It's  been  an  interesting  journey  for  me,  Rocky." 
Thoughtfully  Dawley  Kane  smoked  his  Manila  cigar. 


THE  WORLD  OF  FACT  339 

"It's  enabled  me  to  understand  somewhat  the  delicate 
international  situation  out  here.  I  couldn't  see  why  our 
agents  weren't  accomplishing  more.  The  trouble  is, 
of  course,  that  every  square  foot  of  China  is  staked  out 
by  the  European  nations.  If  you  don't  believe  that, 
just  get  a  concession  from  the  Chinese  Government — 
for  a  big  job — water  power  development,  mining,  rail- 
way building,  or  an  industrial  monopoly — that  part  of 
it  isn't  so  hard — and  then  try  to  carry  it  through. 
You'd  find  out  fast  enough  who  are  the  real  owners  of 
China.  And  those  owners  would  never  let  you  start. 
Great  Britain  controls  this  great  empire  of  the  Yangtze 
Valley  as  completely  as  she  controls  India.  France 
owns  the  south — Russia  the  northwest  and  the  north — 
Japan,  from  Korea  and  Lower  Manchuria  is  penetrat- 
ing the  northwest,  too;  they're  bound,  the  Japanese, 
k>  tip  Russia  out  one  of  these  days,  and  they're  very 
clever  and  patient  about  slipping  into  the  British 
regions.  They've  got  the  Germans  to  contend  with, 
too,  in  the  Kio-chow  region.  But  someday — either  in 
the  event  of  the  final  break-up  of  China  or  in  the  event 
of  the  European  nations  coming  to  an  out-and-out 
squabble  (which  is  almost  a  certainty,  at  that)  Japan 
will  be  found  to  have  pulled  off  most  of  the  big  prizes 
for  herself.  We'll  have  to  fight  Japan  someday,  I 
suppose — over  the  control  of  the  Pacific — but  in  the 
meantime,  those  little  people  are  the  best  bet.  They 
know  the  East  as  the  rest  of  us  don't,  they're  clever, 
and  their  diplomats  aren't  hampered  by  the  sort  of 
half-enlightened  public  opinion  that's  always  tripping 


340  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

us  up  in  the  West — sentimental  idealism,  that  sort  of 
thing — and  they  control  their  press  infinitely  better 
than  we  do.  They've  got  everything,  the  Japanese, 
except  money.  And  we've  got  the  money.  It'll  be  just 
a  question  of  security,  that's  all;  and  watching  them 
pretty  closely.  I've  made  up  my  mind  to  play  it  that 
way.... A  survey  of  the  actual  conditions  out  here 
makes  our  American  diplomacy  look  pretty  naive.  We 
talk  idealism — open  door  and  all — while  all  the  rest 
of  them  are  moving  in  and  setting  up  shop  and  getting 
the  money." 

Later,  in  Dawley  Kane's  spacious  suite  overlooking 
the  park-like  street  where  the  colored  lanterns  of  the 
rickshaws  glowed  pleasantly  under  the  trees,  the  father 
said,  laying  a  hand  affectionately  on  the  boy's 
shoulder : 

"I  can't  tell  you  how  happy  you've  made  me, 
Rocky.  It  looks  as  if  you'd  turned  your  corner.  Just 
don't  go  in  for  too  much  thinking  about  what  you've 
been  through.  There's  nothing  in  remorse.  As  a  matter 
of  fact,  a  little  rough  experience  is  a  good  thing  for  a 
boy.  After  you  get  your  balance  you'll  be  all  the 
closer  to  life  for  it ....  Go  ahead  with  your  college 
plans,  get  your  degree,  and  then  after  a  year  or  two 
in  the  New  York  office  I'll  bring  you  out  here.  We 
shall  be  playing  for  big  stakes.  And  we  shall  need 
good  men. ..  .That's  the  whole  problem,  really — the 
men.  I  had  my  eyes  on  this  man  Doane,  but  he  turned 
out  to  be  only  a  sentimentalist  after  all." 

It  was  the  hopelessness  of  it  that  drove  Rocky  out 


THE  WORLD  OF  FACT  341 

— after  a  respectful  good  night — and  over  to  the  revol- 
utionary headquarters.  He  knew  that  Mr.  Doane 
worked  most  of  the  night,  and  took  what  sleep  he  got 
on  a  cot  there. 


CHAPTER  XV 

IN  A  COURTYARD 

TLJE  sent  in  his  name,  and  waited  for  an  hour  in  an 
outer  office.  For  even  at  this  late  hour  in  the 
evening  headquarters  was  a  busy  place.  Chinese 
gentlemen  crowded  in  and  out,  dressed,  to  a  man,  in 
the  frock  coats  and  the  flapping  black  trousers  they 
didn't  know  how  to  wear.  High  officers  slipped 
quietly  in  and  out — in  khaki,  with  the  white  brassard 
of  the  Revolution  on  their  left  arms;  sometimes  with 
merely  a  handkerchief  tied  there.  Orderlies  and  mes- 
sengers came  and  went.  And  clerks  of  untiring 
patience  sat  at  desks. 

It  was  a  difficult  hour.  Rocky  had  only  his  con- 
fused emotions  to  guide  him,  and  his  hurt  heart. 
There  were  moments,  even,  when  he  didn't  know  why 
he  had  come.  But  he  never  thought  of  giving  up. 
Whatever  their  curious  relations,  he  had  to  see  Mr, 
Doane,  who  was  now  the  only  stable  figure  in  the 
rocking  world  about  him.  The  man  had  been  fine — 
square.  That  he  knew  now.  And  his  nervous  young 
imagination  was  veering  toward  hero-worship.  He 
was  utterly  humble. 

342 


IN   A  COURTYARD  343 

Naturally  he  was  boyish  about  it,  when  they  finally 
led  him  into  that  inner  office.  He  said5  flushing  a 
little: 

"I  know  you're  busy,  Mr.  Doane — " 

"Not  too  busy  for  you.  I  kept  you  waiting  to 
clear  up  a  lot  of  things."  The  man's  great  size  and 
calmness  of  manner — the  question  rose;  had  he  ever 
in  his  life  known  weariness? — were  comforting. 

"I'm — sailing  Saturday." 

This,  for  a  brief  moment,  brought  the  kindly 
though  strong  and  sober  face  to  immobility. 

"You  see,  sir,  I've  come  to  feel  that  the  best  thing 
for  me  is  to  go  back  and — start  clean." 

A  slight  mist  came  over  Doane's  eyes.  What  a 
struggle  the  boy  had  had  of  it!  And  how  splendidly 
he  was  working  through ! . .  . .  Thought  came  about  the 
children  of  the  rich  in  America .  . .  the  problem  of  it ... 

"I — couldn't  go  without  seeing  you.  You  see,  sir, 
it's  you,  I  guess,  that've  put  me  on  my  feet.  I  sort 
of — well,  I  want  you  to  know  that  I  am  on  them.  It's 
been  a  strange  experience,  all  round.  A  terrible  exper- 
ience, of  course.  It  shakes  you...." 

"It  has  shaken  me,  too,"  Doane  observed  simply. 

"I  know.  That  is,  I  see  all  that  more  clearly  now. 
I  was  going  to  speak  of  it — it's  one  of  the  things. .•„.,, 
but  first. . .  .Mr.  Doane,  will  you  write  to  me?  Once 
in  a  while  ?  I  mean,  will  you — could  you  find  time  to 
answer  if  I  write  to  you?  You  see,  it  isn't  going  to 
be  easy,  over  there.  I've  got  to  go  clean  outside  my 
own  crowd.  And  outside  my  family.  They  won't  one 


344  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

of  them  understand  what  I'm  up  to.  Not  one.  And 
— when  you  come  right  down  to  it,  I  suppose  it's  a 
question  whether  the  thing  licks  me  or  not.  But" — 
his  shoulders  squared;  he  looked  directly  into  that 
kind,  deeply  shadowed  face — "I  don't  believe  it  will 
lick  me!" 

"No,"  said  Doane,  "it  won't  lick  you." 

"I  shall  never  be  able  to  shake  China  off  now. 
It's  got  me.  And  I  don't  know  a  thing  about  it  yet. 
Of  course  I  shall  be  reading  and  studying  it  up." 

"I'll  send  you  a  book  once  in  a  while." 

"And  I  know  I'm  coming  back  out  here  someday. 
But  it  won't  be  as  my  father  wants  me  to  come.  You 
see,  I'll  have  money." 

"A  great  responsibility,  Rocky." 

"I  know.  I'm  beginning  to  see  that.  But — I 
know  all  this  must  sound  pretty  young  to  you! — but 
I'm  afraid  I  shall  be  leaning  on  you  sometimes — " 

"Write  to  me  at  those  times." 

"All  right.    I  will." 

"There  is  an  amazing  health  in  the  American 
people." 

"Yes — that's  so,  of  course." 

"It's  a  curiously  blundering  people,  of  course.  And 
there's  a  hard,  really  a  Teutonic  strain — that  blend  of 
practical  hard-headedness,  even  of  cruelty,  with  sen- 
timentality— " 

Rocky's  brows  came  together.  Mr.  Doane  and  his 
father  plainly  didn't  use  that  word  "sentimental"  in 
the  same  sense. 


IN  A  COURTYARD  345 

" — it  comes  down  to  a  strain  of — well,  something 
between  the  old  Anglo-Saxonism  and  the  modem 
Prussianism.  It's  in  us — in  our  driving  business  tac- 
tics, our  narrow  moral  intolerance,  our  insistence  on 
standardizing  vulgar  ideas — forcing  every  individual 
into  a  mold — in  our  extraordinary  glorification  of  the 
salesman.  We  seem  to  have  a  good  deal  both  of  the 
British  complacency  and  the  rough  aggressiveness  of 
the  German.  But  the  health  is  there — wonderfully. 
What  America  needs  is  beauty — not  the  self-conscious 
swarming  after  it  of  earnest  and  misguided  suburban 
ladies^ — but  a  quiet  sense  of  the  thing  itself.  Beauty — 
and  simplicity — and  patience — and  tolerance — and 
faith.  Prosperity  has  for  the  moment  wrecked  faith 
there.  Simply  too  much  money.  But  you'll  find 
health  growing  up  everywhere.  Just  let  yourself  grow 
with  it.  You've  been  deeply  impressed  by  China.  But 
if  I  were  you,  I'd  let  all  that  take  care  of  itself.  Never 
mind  what  you  may  come  to  feel  next  year  or  ten 
years  from  now.  It  may  be  mainly  China  or  mainly 
America.  Just  work,  and  let  yourself  grow." 

At  the  door  they  clasped  hands  warmly.  And 
then,  finally,  Rocky  got  to  the  point: 

"Mr.  Doane — this  is  what  I  wanted  to  say — I  saw 
Hui  Fei  this  afternoon,  and — " 

Doane  was  silent ;  but  still  gripped  his  hand. 

" — and  we  talked  things  all  out.  She  knows  I'm 
— knows  I'm  going  back.  And — this  is  it ....  You 
don't  mind  my.  ...  .1  think  you  ought  to  find  time  to 
go  over  there  and  see  her.  She  seems  puzzled  about 


346  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

— I  don't  know  quite  how  to  say  all  this.  You  know 
how  I've  felt — feel. ...  .Of  course,  the  thing1  is  to  look 
the  facts  in  the  face.  I  hope  I'm  man  enough  to  do 
that."  His  voice  was  unsteady  now.  "I'm  not  the 
one.  I  never  was.  She  was  dear  about  it,  to-day,  but 
,....!  think  you  ought  to  see  her.  Oh,  I'm  sure  it 
isn't  just  her  father's  will. ..." 

Rocky  found  himself,  without  the  slightest  sense 
of  ungentleness  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Doane,  through  the 
door  and  confusedly  saying  his  good-by  before  the 
patient  clerks  and  the  waiting  crowd  in  the  anteroom. 
He  walked  back  to  the  hotel  with  a  warm  glow  of 
admiration  and  friendship  in  his  heart.  There  would 
be — he  knew,  even  then — sad  hours,  probably  bitter 
hours,  in  the  long  struggle  to  come.  But  this  talk 
was  going  to  help. 

2 

On  Doane  the  boy's  announcement  had  an  almost 
crushing  effect.  His  spirit  was  not  adjusted  to  hap- 
piness. The  terrific  strain  of  the  work  was  a  bless- 
ing. He  framed,  that  night  and  during  the  following 
day,  innumerable  little  chits  to  Hui  Fei — pretexts,  all, 
for  a  visit  that  needed  no  pretext.  And  the  day 
passed.  Self-consciousness  was  upon  him;  and  a  con- 
stant mental  difficulty  in  making  the  situation  cred- 
ible. And  there  was  the  pressure  of  time ;  an  awareness 
that  to  Hui  Fei — perhaps  even  to  the  Witherys — his 
silence  would  soon  demand  a  stronger  explanation 
than  the  mere  pressure  of  business.  He  had  to  keeg 


IN  A  COURTYARD  347 

reminding  himself  that  the  girl  was  helpless,  that  he 
himself  was  the  only  guardian  whose  authority  she 
could  recognize;  his  reason  whispering  from  moment 
to  moment  that  she  would  not  touch  the  money  he  had 
so  promptly  put  at  her  disposal.  No,  she  would  wait. 

It  was  his  old  friend  Henry  Withery  who  brought 
him  to  it;  appearing  late  on  the  Saturday  afternoon, 
determined  to  drag  him  off  for  dinner. ..  .Withery, 
looking  every  one  of  his  forty-eight  years,  patient 
resignation  in  the  dusty  blue  eyes,  and  a  fine  net  of 
wrinkles  about  them.  His  slight  limp  was  the  only 
reminder  of  tortures  inflicted  by  the  Boxers  in  1900, 
out  in  Kansuh.  He  had  taken  over  the  T'ainan-fu 
mission  for  a  year  after  Doane  left  the  church  in 
1907;  and  during  two  years  now  had  been  here  in 
Shanghai. 

"There's  no  good  killing  yourself  here,  Grig,"  he 
said.  "We've  not  had  ten  minutes  with  you  yet, 
remember.  And  we  must  talk  over  that  girl's  affairs. 
She's  very  sweet  about  it,  but  it's  plain  that  she's  wait- 
ing on  you." 

His  tone  was  genial ;  quite  the  tone  of  their  earlier 
friendship,  with  nothing  left  of  the  constraint  that 
had  come  into  their  relationship  during  Doane's  diffi- 
cult years  on  the  river — the  years  that  couldn't  be 
explained,  even  to  old  friends ....  And  Withery 
knew  nothing  of  the  curious  personal  problem  of  his 
and  Hui  Fei's  lives.  His  manner  made  that  clear. . . . 
It  remained  to  be  seen  whether  Mrs.  Withery  knew. 
,.  ...Doane,  it  will  be  noted,  was  still  struggling,  as 


348  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

of  settled  habit,  with  the  thought  of  freeing  the  girl 
from  the  obligation  laid  upon  her. 

But  Mrs.  Withery  didn't  know,  didn't  dream.  She 
was  quite  her  whole-souled  self.  He  might  have  been 
Hui  Fei's  father,  from  anything  in  her  manner.  He 
felt  a  conspirator. 

Her  father's  tragic  end  accounted  altogether  for 
the  girl's  silence.  She  met  him  naturally,  though,  with 
a  frank  grip  of  the  hand. 

It  was  a  pleasant  enough  family  dinner.  They 
talked  the  revolution,  of  course.  No  one  in  Shanghai 
at  the  beginning  of  that  November  talked  anything 
else.  Hui  Fei  quietly  listened ;  her  face  very  sober 
in  repose.  She  seemed — she  had  always  seemed — 
more  delicately  feminine  in  Western  costume.  She 
was  more  slender  now;  her  face  a  perfect  oval  under 
the  smooth,  deep-shadowed  hair.  Her  dark  eyes,  deep 
with  stoically  controlled  feeling,  rested  on  this  or  that 
speaker.  Doane  found  them  once  or  twice  resting 
thoughtfully  on  himself. 

After  dinner  Mrs.  Withery,  with  a  glance  at  her 
husband,  laid  a  sympathetic  hand  on  Hui's  shoulder. 

"My  dear,"  she  said,  all  friendly  sympathy,  "Mr. 
Doane's  time  is  precious,  these  days  and  nights.  I 
know  that  you  should  take  this  opportunity  to  talk 
over  your  problems  with  him.  I  shall  be  bustling 
about  here — suppose  you  take  him  out  into  the 
courtyard." 

Without  a  word  they  walked  out  there;  stood  by  a 
gnarled  tree  whose  twisted  limbs  extended  over  the 


IN  A  COURTYARD  349 

low  tiled  roofs.  There  was  a  little  light  from  the 
windows.  The  long"  silence  that  followed  was  the 
most  difficult  moment  yet.  Doane  found  himself 
breathing  rather  hard.  In  Hui  Fei  he  felt  the  calm 
Oriental  patience  that  underlay  all  her  Western  expe- 
riences. She  simply  waited  for  him  to  speak. 

He  looked  down  at  her,  quite  holding  his  breath. 
She  seemed  almost  frail  out  here,  in  the  half  light.  He 
was  fighting,  with  all  his  strength  and  experience, 
the  warm  sweet  feelings  that  drugged  his  brain. 

"My  dear — "  he  began;  then,  when  she  looked 
frankly  up  at  him,  hesitated.  He  hadn't  known  he  was 
going  to  begin  with  any  such  phrase  as  that.  He  got 
on  with  it. . .  ."I'm  wondering  how  I  can  best  help 
you.  If  I  were  a  younger  man  there  would  be  no 
question  as  to  what  I  would  have  to  say  to  you." 
Utterly  clumsy,  of  course ;  with  little  light  ahead ;  just 
a  dogged  determination  to  serve  her  without  hurting 
her. 

"I  think  a  good  'eal  of  wha'  they  tell  me  you're 
doing" — thus  Hui  Fei,  in  a  low  but  clear  voice;  not 
looking  up  now.  "I've  almos'  envied  you.  Helping  li' 
that." 

"It  must  be  hard  for  you — witli  all  your  mental 
interests — to  sit  quietly  here." 

"My  min'  goes  on,  of  course,"  she  said.  "Yes,  it 
isn'  ver'  easy." 

This  was  getting  them  nowhere.  Doane,  after  a 
deep  breath,  took  command  of  the  situation.  Sooner 
or  later  he  would  have  to  do  that. 


350  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

"Hui,  dear,"  he  said  now — very  quietly,  but 
directly,  "this  is  a  difficult  situation  for  both  of  us. 
The  only  thing,  of  course,  is  to  meet  it  as  frankly  as 
we  can.  I  learned  to  love  your  father — " 

She  glanced  up  at  this;  her  eyes  glistened  as  the 
light  caught  them. 

" — but  we  can  not  blindly  follow  his  wishes.  He 
had  seen  and  felt  the  West,  but  he  died  a  Manchu." 

Her  soft  lips  framed  the  one  word,  "Yes."  The 
softness  of  her  whole  face,  indeed,  was  disconcerting; 
it  was  all  sober  emotion,  that  she  plainly  didn't  think 
of  trying  to  hide. 

"And  I'm  sure  you'll  understand  me  when  I  tell 
you  that  I  can  not  accept  his  legacy." 

She  startled  him  now  with  the  low  but  direct  ques- 
tion: "Why  not?" 

"My  dear. .,. ."    He  found  difficulty  in  going  on. 

"I  don'  know  what  I  ought  'o  say."  He  barely 
heard  this;  stopped  a  little.  "I  don'  know  wha'  to  do." 

"Can't  you,  dear — isn't  there  some  clear  vision  in 
your  heart — don't  you  see  your  way  ahead  ?  Remem- 
ber, you  will  always  have  me  to  help — if  I  can  help. 
It  will  mean  everything  to  me  to  be  your  dearest 
friend." 

"I  want  'o  work  with  you,"  she  murmured. 
"I  haren't  dared  believe  that  possible,"   he   said 
thoughtfully. 

"Do  you  wan'  me  to  ?" 


IN  A  COURTYARD  351 

"Yes.  But  it  has  to  be  clearer  than  that."  He 
was  stupid  again;  he  sensed  it  himself.  "There  is 
so  much  of  life  ahead  of  you.  It's  got  to  be  clear 
that  wherever  your  heart  may  lead  you,  child — that 
you  shall  have  my  steady  friendship.  The  rest  of  it 
can  grow  as  it  may." 

"I  wan'. . . ."  He  couldn't  make  out  the  words; 
he  bent  down  close  to  her  lovely  face.  "I  want  'o 
marry  you." 

They  both  stood  breathless  then.  Timidly  her  hand 
crept  into  his  and  nestled  there. 

"Tha's  the  trouble" — her  voice  was  a  very  little 
stronger — "there  isn'  anything  else.  It's  ever'thing 
you  think  an'  do — ever'thing  you  believe.  We're  both 
between  the  worl's,  so . .  . . " 

The  noise  in  his  brain  was  like  the  pealing  of  cathe- 
dral bells  at  Christmas  time.  Yet  in  this  rush  of 
ecstatic  feeling  he  suddenly  saw  clearly.  The  fabric  of 
their  companionship  had  hardly  begun  weaving.  All 
his  experience,  his  delicacy,  his  fine  human  skill,  must 
be  employed  here.  Ahead  lay  happiness !  It  was  still 
nearly  incredible. .  .  .And  there  lay — extending  before 
them  in  a  long  vista — their  intense  common  interest. 
The  thing  was  to  make  a  fine  success  of  it.  Build 
through  the  years. 

And  happiness  was  greatly  important.  He  had  so 
nearly  missed  it. ...  Looking  up  through  the  branches 
of  the  old  tree,  he  smiled. 

Then  he  kd  her  into  the  house. 


352  IN  RED  AND  GOLD 

"Have  you  had  your  talk  already?"  asked  Mrs. 
Withery  pleasantly. 

"We've  settled  everything,"  said  Doane.  "We're 
going-  to  be  married." 

"Ver*  soon,"  said  Hui  Fei. 

THE  END 


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Buck  Peters,  Ranchman.    By  Clarence  E.  Mulford. 
Builders,  The.    By  Ellen  Glasgow. 
Business  of  Life,  The.    By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Cab  of  the  Sleeping  Horse,  The.    By  John  Reed  Scott. 

Cabbage  and  Kings.    By  O.  Henry. 

Cabin  Fever.    By  B.  M.  Bower. 

Calling  of  Dan  Matthews,  The.    By  Harold  Bell  Wright, 

Cape  Cod  Stories.    By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Cap'n  Abe,  Storekeeper.    By  James  A".  Cooper. 

Cap'n  Dan's  Daughter.    By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Cap'n  Erl.    By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Cap'n  Jonah's  Fortune.    By  James  A.  Cooper. 

Cap'n  Warren's  Wards.    By  Joseph  'C.  Lincoln. 

Chinese  Label,  The.    By  J.  Frank  Davis. 

Christine  of  the  Young  Heart.  By  Louise  Brelntenbacfi  Clancy. 

Cinderella  Jane.    By  Marjorie  B.  Cooke. 

Cinema  Murder,  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

City  of  Masks,  The.    By  George  Barr  McCutcheon. 

Cleek  of  Scotland  Yard.    By  T.  W.  Hanshew. 


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Cleek,  The  Man  of  Forty  Faces.    By  Thomas  W.  Hanshew. 

deck's  Government  Cases.    By  Thomas  W.  Hanshew. 

Clipped  Wings.    By  Rupert  Hughes. 

Clutch  of  Circumstance,  The.    By  Marjorie  Benton  Cooke. 

Coast  of  Adventure,  The.    By  Harold  Bindloss. 

Come-Back,  The.   By  Carolyn  Wells. 

Coming  of  Cassidy,  The.    By  Clarence  E.  Mulford. 

Coming  of  the  Law,  The.    By  Charles  A.  Seltzer. 

Comrades  of  Peril.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Conquest  of  Canaan,  The.    By  Booth  Tarkington. 

Conspirators,  The.     By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Contraband.    By  Randall  Parrish. 

Cottage  of  Delight,  The.    By  Will  N.  Harben. 

Court  of  Inquiry,  A.    By  Grace  S.  Richmond, 

Cricket,  The.    By  Marjorie  Benton  Cooke. 

Crimson  Gardenia,  The,  and  Other  Tales  of  Adventure.    By 

Rex  Beach. 

Crimson  Tide,  The.    By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 
Cross  Currents.    By  Author  of  "Pollyanna." 
Cross  Pull,  The.     By  Hal.  G.  Evarts. 
Cry  in  the  Wilderness,  A.    By  Mary  E.  Waller. 
Cry  of  Youth,  A.    By  Cynthia  Lombardi. 
Cup  of  Fury,  The.    By  Rupeit  Hughes. 
Curious  Quest,  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Danger  and  Other  Stories1.    By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 
Dark  Hollow,  The.    By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 
Dark  Star,  The.     By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 
Daughter  Pays,  The.     By  Mrs.  Baillie  Reynolds. 
Day  of  Days,  The.    By  Louis  Joseph  Vance. 
Depot  Master,  The,    By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 
Destroying  Angel,  The.    By  Louis  Joseph  Vance. 
Devil's  Own,  The.    By  Randall  Parrish. 
Devil's  Paw,  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 
Disturbing  Charm,  The.    By  Berta  Ruck. 
Door  of  Dread,  The.    By  Arthur  Stringer. 
Dope.    By  Sax  Rohmer. 

Double  Traitor,  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 
Duds.    By  Henry  C.  Rowland. 


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Empty  Pockets.    By  Rupert  Hughes. 
Erskine  Dale  Pioneer.    By  John  Fox,  Jr. 
Everyman's  Land.    By  C.  N.  &  A.  M.  Williamson. 
Extricating  Obadiah.    By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 
Eyes  of  the  Blind,  The.    By  Arthur  Somers  Roche. 
Eyes  of  the  World,  The.    By  Harold  Bell  Wright. 

Fairfax  and  His  Pride.    By  Marie  Van  Vorst. 

Felix  O'Day.    By  F.  Hopkinson  Smith. 

54-40  or  Fight    By  Emerson  Hough. 

Fighting  Chance,  The.    By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Fighting  Fool,  The.    By  Daae  Coolidge. 

Fighting  Shepherdess,  The.    By  Caroline  Lockhart. 

Financier,  The.     By  Theodore  Dreiser. 

Find  the  Woman.    By  Arthur  Somers  Roche. 

First  Sir  Percy,  The.    By  The  Baroness  Orczy, 

Flame,  The.    By  Olive  Wadsley. 

For  Better,  for  Worse.    By  W.  B.  Maxwell. 

Forbidden  Trail,  The.    By  Honore  Willsie. 

Forfeit,  The.     By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 

Fortieth  Door,  The.    By  Mary  Hastings  Bradley. 

Four  Million,  The.    By  O.  Henry. 

From  Now  On.    By  Frank  L.  Packard. 

Fur  Bringers,  The.    By  Hulbert  Footner. 

Further  Adventures  of  Jimmie  Dale.    By  Frank  L.  Packard. 

Gef  Your  Man.    By  Ethel  and  James  Dorrance. 

Girl  in  the  Mirror,  The.    By  Elizabeth  Jordan. 

Girl  of  O.  K.  Valley,  The.    By  Robert  Watson. 

Girl  of  the  Blue  Ridge,  A.  By  Payne  Erskine. 

Girl  from  Keller's,  The.    By  Harold  Bindloss. 

Girl  Philippa,  The.    By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Girls  at  His  Billet,  The.    By  Berta  Ruck. 

Glory  Rides  the  Range.    By  Ethel  and  James  Borrance. 

Gloved  Hand,  The.    By  Burton  E.  Stevenson. 

God's  Country  and  the  Woman.    By  James  Oliver  Corwood. 

God's  Good  Man.    By  Marie  Corelli. 

Going  Some.    By  Rex  Beach. 

Gold  Girl,  The.    By  James  B.  Hen'dryx. 

Golden  Scorpion,  The.   By  Sax  Rohmer. 


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Golden  Slipper,  The.    By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

Golden  Woman,  The.    By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 

Good  References.    By  E.  J.  Rath. 

Gorgeous  Girl,  The.     By  Nalbro  Bartley. 

Gray  Angels,  The.     By  Nalbro  Bartley. 

Great  Impersonation,  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Greater  Love  Hath  No  Man.    By  Frank  L.  Packard. 

Green  Eyes  of  Bast,  The.     By  Sax  Rohmer. 

Greyfriars  Bobby.     By  Eleanor  Atkinson. 

Gun  Brand,  The.    By  James  B.  Hendryx. 

Hand  of  Fu-Manchu,  The.    By  Sax  Rohmer. 

Happy  House.     By  Baroness  Von  Hutten. 

Harbor  Road,  The.    By  Sara  Ware  Bassett. 

Havoc.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Heart  of  the  Desert,  The,    By  Honore  Willsie. 

Heart  of  the  Hills,  The.    By  John  Fox,  Jr. 

Heart  of  the  Sunset.     By  Rex  Beach. 

Heart  of  Thunder  Mountain,  The.    By  Edfrid  A.  Bingham. 

Heart  of  Unaga,  The.    By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 

Hidden  Children,  The.     By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Hidden  Trails.    By  William  Patterson  White. 

Highflyers,  The.    By  Clarence  B.  Kelland. 

Hillman,  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Hills  of  Refuge,  The.    By  Will  N.  Harben. 

His  Last  Bow.     By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 

His  Official  Fiancee.    By  Berta  Ruck. 

Honor  of  the  Big  Snows.    By  James  Oliver  Curwood. 

Hopalong  Cassidy.     By  Clarence  E.  Mulford. 

Hound  from  the  North,  The.     By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 

House  of  the  Whispering  Pines,  The.     By  Anna  Katharine 

Green. 

Hugh  Wynne,  Free  Quaker.    By  S.  Weir  Mitchell,  M.D. 
Humoresque.     By  Fannie  Hurst. 

I  Conquered.    By  Harold  Titus. 
Illustrious  Prince,  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 
In  Another  Girl's  Shoes.    By  Berta  Ruck. 
Indifference  of  Juliet,  The.    By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 
Inez.    (lit  Ed.)    By  Augusta  J.  Evans. 


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Infelice.    By  Augusta  Evans  Wilson. 

Initials  Only.    By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

Inner  Law,  The.    By  Will  N.  Harben. 

Innocent.     By  Marie  Corelli. 

In  Red  and  Gold.    By  Samuel  Merwin. 

Insidious  Dr.  Fu-Manchu,  The.    By  Sax  Rohmer. 

In  the  Brooding  Wild.    By  Ridgwell  Cullura. 

Intriguers,  The.    By  William  Le  Queux. 

Iron  Furrow,  The.    By  George  C.  Shedd. 

•Iron  Trail,  The.    By  Rex  Beach. 

Iron  Woman,  The.    By  Margaret  Defland. 

IshmaeL  (111.)     By  Mrs.  South  worth. 

Island  of  Surprise.    By  Cyrus  Townsend  Brady. 

I  Spy.    By  Natalie  Sumner  Linclon. 

It  Pays  to  Smile.    By  Nina  Wilcox  Putnam. 

I've  Married  Marjorie.    By  Margaret  Widdemer. 

can  of  the  Lazy  A.    By  B.  M.  Bower. 

eanne  of  the  Marshes.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

ennie  Gerhardt.    By  Theodore  Dreiser. 

ohnny  Nelson.    By  Clarence  E.  Mulford. 

udgment  House,  The.    By  Gilbert  Parker. 

Keeper  of  the  Door,  The.    By  Ethel  M.  DelL 

Keith  of  the  Border.    By  Randall  Parrish. 

Kent  Knowles:  Quahaug.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Kingdom  of  the  Blind,  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

King  Spruce.    By  Holman  Day. 

Knave  of  Diamonds,  The.    By  Ethel  M.  Dell. 

La  Chance  Mine  Mystery,  The,    By  S.  Carleton. 
Lady  Doc,  The.    By  Caroline  L"ockhart. 
.Land-Girl's  Love  Story,  A.    By  Berta  Ruck. 
Land  of  Strong  Men,  The.    By  A.  M.  Chisholra. 
Las?  Straw,  The.    By  Harold  Titus. 
Last  Trail,  The.    By  Zane  Grey. 
Laughing  BiH  Hyde.    By  Rex  Beach. 
Laughing  Girl,  The.    By  Robert  W.  Chambers*. 
Law  Breakers,  The,    By  Rtdgwell  Cullum. 
Law  of  the  Gun,  The.   By  Rjdgwell  Cullum. 


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